The Worst Possible Sitch
by Love Robin
Summary: While on a mission Kim kills a villain and finds herself on a slippery slope that will lead her into evil. KiGo. WPS Inspired by BlackBird's AiRW, with permissions.
1. The Masta

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter One – _The Masta_

Air! She needed air!

Kim struggled against the massive hand that held the back of her head in a low-walled water-filled vat with a vice-like grip, but she didn't have the leverage or the energy to effectively break the grasp.

She was pulled up, drops of water spraying outward. Eyes blinking, she gasped for air as the tall, lanky, wild-eyed black man yelled into her face, spraying warm spittle, "Who's the masta??" When she failed to answer he growled and shoved her head back under. Kim struggled more, wanting to breathe but needing to keep the liquid from entering her lungs. After a long two minutes he pulled her back up, his height and grip keeping her barely balanced on tippy-toes and screamed even louder into her sputtering face, her vision dulled with impending blackout.

"I said… 'Who's the masta?!'" However as she was more concerned with spitting water out and raggedly taking air in no answer was forthcoming. She was shoved back under.

As her arms flailed about alternating between seeking some sort of purchase and digging at the steely grip which held her, recent events surfaced before her eyes. _Great, _she thought,_ I'm dying and my life is flashing before me!_

She and Ron had been on the trail of self-proclaimed multi-national multi-media mogul Eddie Arcadian for the past two days. He had the crazy idea to hijack all the entertainment signals in the world be it Radio, Television including cable and satellite, or Internet; ransoming usage time to all that wanted to resume using them. Sure he considered the fees low, a dollar a day per person, or twenty-five for a month paid in advance, but it was still unreasonable.

Not to mention rude.

Oh, he had started off with a normal enough business proposal, seeking to gain venture capital and backers by legitimate means, but no one wanted to get on board with him. So like all of the criminally insane, once Arcadian saw his dream being ridiculed he turned to more drastic measures.

He hired muscle to make it happen.

Then as soon as he realized that the great teen hero Kim Possible was put on the case he placed ads on the InTerrorNet for the highest caliber martial artists to supplement his moderate number of HenchCo henchmen.

Knowing the teen's reputation Eddie was shrewd enough _not_ to mention the identity of the thorn in his side he wanted dealt with. Hundreds of applications flooded in and he hired nearly three dozen of the best dirty fighters in the world. However he also out-shrewd-ed himself. By not mentioning Kim Possible's name many of the better quality ones, including Shego, did _not _answer. However as it was he was contacted by one individual who offered his services practically for free.

Sho'Nuff, who styled himself as the "Shogun of Harlem", had been aching for years to face off against the teen hero. He had studied for years under the same sixteen martial arts masters who taught her, yet no matter how well he had excelled each told him that he was nowhere near as good as their greatest student, Kim Possible.

Sho's extremely competitive nature forced him to drive himself farther and harder to emerge from her shadow. He had even learned to touch the Final Level and the Glow, a breakthrough of enlightenment where mind, body, and spirit were so aligned he was able to channel his chi into his hands in a visible glow, making them as hard as steel.

Sho'Nuff's trademarked shtick was to make a grand entrance, having his entourage of six storm in ahead of him like an honor guard and form a row for him to proceed down, whilst he declared, "Who's the greatest?" His flunkies would then cry out "Sho'Nuff!".

"Who's the meanest?" "Sho'Nuff!"

"Who's the toughest?" "Sho'Nuff!"

"Who's the baddest?" "Sho'Nuff!"

"Who's the _Masta_?" "Sho'Nuff!"

_"WHO AM I??"_ "SHO'NUFF‼"

He would finish with, "The Sho'Gun…of Harlem," giving "shogun" the same inflection he did his name.

The Sho'Gun and his "Bullets", as Ron called them since there were six flunkies, joined Arcadian for the soul purpose of facing off against the teen hero. He wanted to beat her down and humiliate her as their masters had him and he figured allying himself with Arcadian would serve that purpose.

Impatiently he waited for his opportunity.

Which turned out to be today. Kim and Ron had responded to Arcadian's kidnapping of Laura Charles, one of the most preeminent "i-Jays" known as Vanity, to become the face of his new multi-media conglomerate.

As predicted by Ron, it turned out to be a "trap trap".

While Kim battled Eddie's collected "Kung Foe Fighters", Sho'Nuff's lackeys made short work of Ron and Rufus, tying them both up and tossing them into the converted warehouse's media control booth while Arcadian made certain to visibly drag around a struggling bound and gagged Vanity, enticing Kim to give chase.

Which she did, following them into the upper levels of the adjacent building but having to fight for nearly every step.

Having just finished off the last of the Kung Foes and the Bullets, Kim was about to continue after the muffled and frightened squeals of Ms Charles somewhere up ahead when…

"Possible…," the double doors of a darkened freight elevator suddenly parted horizontally, like giant jaws, revealing the black martial arts master. Today he was wearing a red dogi with dragons embroidered in gold thread about his shoulders and arms and _two_ black belts about his waist, tied off on opposite sides.

Up close Kim could see how tall and lanky he truly was, towering over her by half again her height, his arms and legs longer than normal for his torso's proportions. The teen hero immediately realized that the reach of his limbs were much greater than her own.

"I've been expecting you… _Possible_," Sho stepped out into the wide hallway. Circling her with a slight dancing motion which mostly favored Brazilian capoeira, a style the redhead noted that would best utilize his long and lanky frame, he crowed, "I've got something real for your ass here… ."

Kim dropped into her ready position, slowly rotating as he moved. Since the Harlem Master had joined this caper he had been angling for a one-on-one with her but circumstances had prevented them from actually squaring off.

Until now.

She had no idea why.

Thanks to the information that Wade had compiled for her Kim knew they shared former masters, but for the life of her she couldn't fathom why he seemed to have such a personal interest in her.

"What is it you want from me Sho?"

He continued to circle her, his tread light and somewhat fleet for his build, "What do I want? What do I _want?!_ I want from you what I wanted from our sifus and senseis. I want to hear the words 'Sho'Nuff is the Masta.'"

"If none of our sixteen teachers felt it wise to bestow that rank on you, what makes you think I can?"

"Even though I beat each of them to a bloody pulp, they all said the same thing. _The same thing! _'You are no match for my greatest student, you are no match for _Kim Possible_.' I plan to make you eat their words." With that he darted in, his arms whipping for her like springing snakes.

Kim was braced for his attack. Or so she had thought.

For several frenzied moments, redhead and red-dogied battled with a speed that human eyes could hardly follow. As lithe and limber as Kim was, Sho'Nuff was just as fast, if not a little more. Punches and kicks flew for five minutes, only every time she threw something at him he blocked with some part of his long limbs. Every time she tried to evade his grasp, he pegged her. With each leap and flip his hands or feet snagged her, keeping her off-balance or pulling her back.

Even dropping into the same style as his did her little good as her limbs had nothing on his reach.

He was strong too. Whenever she attempted to block any of his punches the sheer strength behind them drove her own fists into her as well. Essentially he was helping her to pummel herself and she could feel the bruises forming.

The only time she made a solid connection was when he grabbed her foot from a drop-kick and pitched her headlong into a wall. Kim caught herself with her hands, absorbing the energy into her arms so that when she uncoiled them, straightening her body into what was essentially a horizontal handstand off the vertical surface, she managed to drive both her feet into his wide open and unprotected chest.

He flew back into, and through, the opposite wall with the terrible sound of rending metal, of which it was made. He twitched for a moment and it looked like he might get back up, but then he collapsed.

Kim set to go after Vanity and her captor, Arcadian. Except she barely took two steps when she heard a deep whisper, "Possible…,"

Spinning on her heels the teen saw through the hole in the rusted metal the spot where the black shogun had lain, empty. Cautiously she crept through the ragged tear. Another few steps and then a shadowy corner erupted with orange light.

Kim spun about to see the tall man with his arms crossed at the wrists, clawed hands awash with a deep amber glow. Though not the same sort of glow as Shego's. No, hers was the glow of hot plasma, and while probably also summoned by marshaling her chi, _this_ was pure chi alone.

Something that Kim in all her training had never been able to achieve, even though each of her teachers had assured her they could no longer teach her anything further. When she protested about the lack of the glow signifying her reaching the Final Level, each and every one of them did the same thing.

They placed a finger against her forehead and told her she had to seek it in a place they could not take her. Which was when she sought training from the next of what were ultimately sixteen masters.

Sixteen failures to achieve the glow.

Kim had thought herself a failure, relegated to being simply an accomplished multi-styled adept, and why she thought of herself as only a cheerleader. Her only solace was that she had never seen anyone else with a glow. Other than Team Go of course, and the one time she had been infused with the blue glow of power.

However that had been thanks to Aviarius' device and _not_ due to any aspect of her training. Anyway she only had it a short while and was subsequently stripped of it before it was restored to it's rightful owner, Hego.

Yet here stood before her a man with his hands glowing without the courtesy of a freak multi-colored comet.

He_ achieved the Final Level? _She thought incredulously.

"Yeah Possible…, yeah…," he nodded at her, the deep orange light reflecting in his already wild eyes made even more so by the fact that one of them was open wider than the other, "Time to _play… _girl… ."

He moved, fast.

He hit, hard.

Only four strikes did he make, two to her jaw, two to her stomach. She reeled with each connection of his now steel-hard fists, the dimly lit area flashing as if with amber lightening. When she doubled over he drove a knee into her face hard enough to put her in a back-flip, sending her over the edge of the platform which comprised this part of the upper level. Kim had no time to recover before she landed hard atop a tall group of pallets stacked high with boxes filled with something hard.

As the teen hero tried to stand he leapt down in a drop kick that tossed her further and down to the floor of the lower level itself. She impacted hard, bounced a few inches even. By the time she again made her feet, unsteady from the multiple pile-driven blows and left eye beginning to swell shut, he had climbed down, hands still aglow.

Standing before her Sho spoke again, this time even closer to the madness his eyes always promised, "Now, when I say 'Who's the Masta,' you say….," eyes momentarily closed almost in rapture, his knuckles cracking as his fists clenched, "…'Sho'Nuff'… .

"Now Possible…Who's the Masta?"

Kim shook her head defiantly. She was unable to say it. It was against her nature to speak a lie. She was bad at lying and the few times she had tried bad things had ensued. Like when she had been trapped in the Project Centurion armor. Now she found herself unable to say to the disgruntled and obsessed martial artist what he wanted to hear. What their common teachers, sifus, and senseis had refused to say to him.

Or say to _her_ for that matter.

With an enraged yell Sho moved. Even though they were several yards apart, it seemed as if the black man was directly in front of her with only one step. He lashed out twice more, amber glow highlighting each landed blow. She saw it even through closed eyes.

Then he spun her about. Getting a firm grip on her hair he rushed her to the vat and proceeded to dunk her several times. Kim could hear Arcadian yelling from above somewhere, "Drown her! For God's sake, drown her!"

Which is where she was at now.

Only the memories did not stop there. Even as her breath began to fail her, as her vision began to cloud over, in a rapid slide-show each of her former masters suddenly appeared before her mind's eye, each shoving a forefinger against her forehead hard enough to make her take a step back. Each saying the same thing: "There is one place, only one place, for you to look, and it is there you will find a master… ."

"There is one place…," the slide-memories looped again but faster…

"…only _one_ place…," and faster, the face of each giving way to the next…

"…for you to look…," until the features of all sixteen, male and female and all their ethnicities, blurred together…

"… and it is _there_ you will find… a master," the combined voices finished.

Sho'Nuff felt the girl's struggles slow and pulled her upright again, "WHO'S THE ONE AND ONLY _MASTA_?!"

"I am," said Kimberly Ann Possible, her voice barely more than a whisper, her face strangely serene for having been nearly drowned.

With the loudest roar yet, his right eye nearly closed in anger, his left threatening to pop out of its socket, the Sho'Gun of Harlem drove his amber-glowing fist straight at her head, determined now to end her defiance by caving her face in.

Except…

Except with a motion so fluid, so seemingly casual as to belie its true speed, Kim's hand intercepted his, not only blocking the powerful strike but _catching_ his massive fist in her much smaller one. The redhead's entire body flared with a crimson glow nearly the same shade as her hair.

"_I am,"_ she repeated in a sugary yet insistent tone. She squeezed with her petite hand. With hardly any effort she closed her fingers over his and pain shot up his arm and into his brain, driving the tall man to his knees.

"Ow! G'damn, lemme go! Lemme go, Mo'Fo, lemme go‼"

The teenage girl, master of sixteen styles of martial arts, released him and danced back on the balls of her feet, a half smile on her face. Her vigor was restored, her bruises seemed gone, the swelling of her eye evaporated. She felt _alive_! _Is this what Shego feels when she powers up? She'd better watch out _now_!_

Backpedaling to gain space between them while trying to restore his former concentration, the Sho'Gun of Harlem nonetheless found his indignation seeping away, his chi unfocused. He stood upright and tried to resume a fighting stance, but his confidence was shaken now.

Her _entire body_ glowed!

Fear gnawed at him. His measly hands-only glow sputtered, failing even as he tried to re-funnel the energies. With an audible pop it went out completely.

Duplicating Sho's distance-covering single step, Kim rushed in and thrust both her open palms against his stomach and chest. It didn't appear to be much energy imparted and yet the double black-belt wearing man flew back through the air and into another vat twin to the one she had recently been acquainted with. Water splashed out on all sides as his limp form hit, unconscious.

With a casual sashay, her ruby glow abating, the teen hero moved close enough to drag him half out and propped over the sides so he wouldn't drown.

"KP!" Ron's voice called out from above. Wherever he had been he had finally caught up and now he and Rufus were clambering through the hole in the wall that she had driven Sho'Nuff through earlier. They raced around the catwalks to where Laura Charles, Vanity, stood with her hands tied to the railing. As Rufus began to chew through the bindings, Ron pointed behind her.

"That was excellent theater baby!"

Eddie Arcadian had climbed down a service ladder and now stood with a gun drawn on her. "How I wish I had recorded that. Nothing like it on stage, screen, television, plasma, DVD or Blu-Ray!" He raised the gun, taking careful aim at the small girl before him, "But this, baby, this will put an end to that kung fu mumble jumble…," without further warning he fired.

"KP‼" Ron cried out, "NO‼"

Even as the gunshot rang out, echoing loudly in the warehouse, Kim's glow snapped back up along only her arms as she moved to one side. Her hands rose up as if catching a ball as she pivoted along one heel. Completing the spin 360 her hands opened towards Arcadian who immediately flipped over backwards to hit the floor in a meaty sounding thud.

Ron slid down the ladder using only his hands and insoles on the outer rails. "KP! Are you alright?"

The glow on her arms snapped off and finally she wavered, exhaustion over-taking her, but she stayed on her unsteady feet. "I'm fine Ron," she brought the back of her hand to her forehead which felt strangely feverish.

Her boyfriend made his way over to her and guided her to a stack of empty pallets, "You don't look alright, and you better sit before you fall down. What was with the light show babe? You suddenly adopted by Team Go?"

"I…I'm not sure what it was… its sort of fuzzy now. A moment ago everything was crystal, but now its all slipping away… ,"

"You had me worried there. I thought you a goner when he shot you at point-blank. I was afraid I'd lost another girlfriend!"

She looked up into his concerned eyes and offered him a weak smile, "Ron, you haven't had any girlfriends to lose that I'd be another one."

A sudden vision of the Japanese ninja girl Yori, with her sedate banter that he only discovered was her way of flirting after Kim told him what it was, flashed through his mind. He shoved it away and chuckled, "Yeah, well, even before you were my girlfriend you were my, you know, _girl_ friend. I'd hate to lose either of you."

Kim offered a stronger smile, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, "That's sweet Ron. Thanks. I'd hate to lose you too. But I'll be alright in a minute. How's Arcadian?"

"I'll check," the Blond boy walked over to the media mogul's prone form and kneeled next to him. He looked up in sudden terror. "Kim, what did you _do?_"

"I don't know. Nothing. I don't really recall," She got up and moved closer. "Why, how is he?"

Ron looked at her aghast, "He's been shot. One between the peeps."

Suddenly sick to her stomach, an icy dread running down her core, Kim stood over the body and looked down in horror, her mouth agape. Eddie Arcadian, self-proclaimed multi-national multi-media mogul and fledgling super-villain, lay on the floor of his hidden media empire studio headquarters in a spreading pool of his own blood, a surprised look frozen on his face. Three eyes stared up at the ceiling, but he had only been born with two of them.

"He's dead, Kim."

* * *

Notes: Welcome to the universe of the Wost Possible Sitch!

First off, this story was inspired by BlackBird's All I Really Want(AIRW). In particular the second chapter where the cloned Kim was being spun a story about how she was a wanted fugitive. As I read it I thought "How much cooler would it be for this to happen to the real Kim and not a copy. The more I thought about it, the more I could see events that could lead to Real Kim falling from grace and descending the slippery slope into evil. And yes, into KiGo.

This is the result. I got BlackBird's permission to run with my take on his original ideas. In the first couple chapters there will be passages I'll lift nearly word for word from his.

As for the universe of Worst Possible Sitch(WPS), it occurs a month after Graduation and I'll be observing all of canon to the best of my ability. So I'm considering WSP as a sequel to canon while residing in its own universe. This chapter marks its diversion from the life that Good Kim will lead. Additionally, if you see something missing from canon, feel free to bring it to my attention.

At this time BB has reserved his OC's so don't expect to hear about the Credible Investigations crew or his various super-heroes. Of course they are in the Maternal Instincts(MI) and Another Possibility(AP) universes more than AIRW, but still don't expect them at this point, if ever.

Events in this chapter came about because I was trying to find a minor canon KP villain to start Kim on her down-slide but I didn't want to actual kill any canon characters. Of course I'll shuffle and move CC's about, re-mixing and matching them, but characters from outside KP are fair game.

Then recently I was watching with my children on cable Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon, one of my favorite movies(if you haven't seen it, you simply must!), and thought, Hey! Eddie Arcadian and Sho'Nuff would be perfect Guest Star Villains! From there the thought of Kim having a Glow, which at first she will have trouble controlling, developed. And won't a good self-respecting villain need a glow?? Of course in TLD Sho'Nuff's glow is red while the hero's is Golden, but I thought it visually more appealing for our fav redhead to have the ruby glow. Besides Kim will no longer be "hero". Not wanting to simply swap the colors and give Sho "hero" gold, I altered it to amber/orange. From there the backstory of the individual masters who taught Kim her sixteen kinds of kung fu practically wrote itself, which for me is good because it makes my job easier and lets me know that I'm in a groove.

Oh! BTW, in addition to weaving in many of Disney's other franchises I'll be entering Original Characters developed by me and my husband. Expect to see at least one new "Possible" relative as well as extended members of the Go/Downe family. (I know BB got his permission from NoDrogs's A Small Possibilities, another of my fav authors, but as I got permissions from BB I hope there will be no problems) By my reckoning there are at least three more visible Go Glows that should be out there: Orange, Yellow and Indigo, not to mention the invisible Infrared and Ultraviolet.

Oh! Last item this time around… Any suggestions for the eventual costume Evil Kim will wear? I've seen around on Deviant Art, especially on the talented Destikim's pages, that someone has a character wearing a pink Go catsuit. Kim is partial to pink and if she's going into KiGo she might chose to reflect fashion Shego's tastes. Will I have to track someone down to ask their permission to use it?

Speaking of Destikim, his "Kigo 2" clothes are very sharp. DK, if you're watching, I'll drop you a line soon...

Another idea currently floating around my brain is a Global Justice-like uniform but instead of the normal blue it would be red(Global Injustice?).

Finally, I love Jean Grey's Dark Phoenix costume from Marvel's X-Men. The black and deep red version, not the regular green one, but I'm still open if anyone out there has an idea.

LR


	2. The Sitch

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Two – _The Sitch_

She was asleep.

It was the kind of dreamless sleep that completely shut off the outside world and made time just seem to fly by. It was a peaceful sleep that she never wanted to be woken up from. Yet someone was trying to wake her. It was distant, but she could hear a voice calling her name. At first she thought it was Ron but then realized the voice was more feminine. Maybe her mom? No… no it didn't sound like her. It _did_ sound very familiar but she just couldn't quite place it.

While mentally swimming to the surface of wakefulness she realized she had a hum-killer of a headache. Reluctantly she slowly opened her eyes to try and figure out who was disturbing her.

At first all she could see were two blurry figures standing over her. That was rather natural given that she was still waking up, but they looked weird somehow. She could tell they were people but one seem very pale, almost green while the other was noticeably blue. Again they were familiar to her but her still sleepy mind just wasn't connecting the dots. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and when everything finally came into to focus she could see that the people above her were…

"Shego! Drakken!" she cried out in surprise.

She swung her leg up, the side of her foot perfectly nailing Drakken in the temple. He let out a pained groan as he staggered a few steps to the side and back while Shego wisely shifted herself out of the way to avoid such an attack on her. She didn't need to worry though as Kim's lower body followed the leg as she tucked into a ball then uncoiled into a handspring back-flip. She landed, if a little wobbly, in a fighting stance a few feet away from the bed she had been laying on.

"Where am I?! What have you done with Ron?!" she demanded.

Shego started to explain carefully, "Alright first off, we haven't done anything with your _boy_friend," there was a strange emphasis on the word, "and secondly if you'd calm down a bit you can see you're in Drakken's lair."

"Which brings me back to why exactly am I here? What are you two up to? What are you going to do to me?"

"Kimmie, don't you think that if we were up to anything nefarious you'd either be in a holding cell or at least tied down to that bed."

Kim's brow furrowed a bit as she processed that information. "OK, maybe you're right but it still doesn't explain what's going on."

"What's going on is that I just had to drag your sorry butt back here after you were pegged by Global Justice," Shego snidely remarked, crossing her arms. "You took a couple of solid hits in the back."

"What?!" the redhead shouted incredulously. "They would never shoot me!"

"Unless you got on their bad side."

"What are you talking about?!"

"You really don't remember, do you?" Shego asked, sounding surprised.

Drakken raised a finger, "Actually that's not surprising at all. The so-called "safety rounds" employed by Global Justice are in actuality miniature tasers powered by high-yield capacitors. Shots to the head or anywhere in close proximity of the spinal column can have a mild, if lingering, neural scrambling effect…," he petered off as he absorbed the looks of the two women.

Well, Shego's look in particular. Kim stared at him blankly with mouth partly open, but the older woman's glare suggested that she was not in the mood for any of his explanations. While that was not a new thing from her, this particular look told him that he needed to shut up, and soon.

"Your neural pathways and shorter-termed memories will reassert themselves in a few hours at best. A couple days at worst," he finished rapidly and proceeded to ensure he was out of the woman's easy reach.

Turning back to the teenager, Shego's expression softened. "Kimmie, you're public enemy number one now."

This was enough cause for the girl to break her fighting stance and stare at the older woman in wide eyed wonder.

"Wha… but… how?" she stammered.

The catsuited woman looked at Drakken questioningly.

"Relating relevant facts can quicken the process," he nodded.

She nodded then walked over to Kim, holding her hands up to show that she wasn't going to hurt the confused girl. When she was positive she wasn't going to be attacked, the pale green woman laid a reassuring hand on Kim's shoulder.

"Kim, listen to me, your world's changed a lot in the last week," she started slowly.

"Then why don't I remember?" Kim asked hopelessly.

"Like I said, you took a couple neural taser rounds in the back which as Dr Tactless there explained," She nodded in his direction with an air of exasperation, "probably caused things to get jumbled."

"Yeah. Yeah I think you're right. I mean my head does feel a bit… fuzzy," she remarked, holding a hand up to her head. "Scratch that, it's killing me! I have a splitting headache."

From near the doors in case he needed to beat a hasty retreat from Shego, who seemed to be strangely on edge tonight, Drakken added, "Ah… a side effect of your neurons reestablishing their connections, it too shall abate."

"Bu… but I still remember things! Like both of you, Ron, my life and family… ."

"Ah, see, when it comes to memories," the blue villain began, "the human brain is much like a sponge… in fact the natural sea sponge even has a similar shape…," his brow furrowed as some thought seemed to derail his tongue.

Shego growled, "Doc! The point?"

"Oh! Sorry," his attention snapped back to present, "Where was I? Oh! A sponge, yes. Think of a memory as a drop of water. When it hits a sponge… think of a dry one to better get the picture. When you drop a drop of water on a sponge, it's absorbed, right?"

Kim nodded. In that one moment he had paused Kim wondered if she need not reconsider how she viewed the mad scientist. Was what she had always thought as an outlandish daftness in fact something else? She had heard that some children with genius level IQ's have so many lines of thoughts running through their heads at the same time that they can barely keep up on a conscious level. Thus seeming to those around them as attention deficient and dumber than they truly were.

Is that what she just witnessed about Drakken? How had she ever missed it before this? _Because you were too busy foiling him to ever slow down enough to have an actual conversation like this. _

"The drop lays on the surface for the briefest of moments before it is absorbed, assimilated if you will," he paced back and forth as if performing a lecture, unaware of Kim's wonderment. "Add more and more drops and they too are absorbed, the first pulled deeper towards the middle of the sponge.

"Same thing happens with your brain. Newer memories lay at the outer regions of the area that stores your memories, while the older ones are pulled deeper in. Stored for the long term, they become more permanent, as can be demonstrated by leaving a sponge out to dry. The center of it holds the water the longest. The outer edges can give up the water, again memories, it's holding at the slightest provocation. Whack it. Throw it against a wall. Squeeze it. Any of those actions will part water from the sponge.

"Now mind you this _is_ an imprecise analogy, as the brain isn't a sponge any more than memories are water to be lost, but it illustrates how a sharp enough trauma to the brain will in a sense 'jog things loose'. But you will not loose the memories. At best you may loose access to some, but generally your neurons will re-bridge as the synapses re-associate your memories."

As he wound down he looked at his "audience" to see if they still followed. As usual he could see that Shego had tuned him out, obviously only waiting for a lull to resume talking to the teen. The only thing missing was her filing her nails. However the redhead was following him as if she was going to be given a pop quiz.

"That… I actually followed that."

"See Shego? At least your nemesis can appreciate a good exposition!"

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah yeah yeah Doc, mind if we continue?"

Drakken gave her a "by all means" flourishing gesture before turning to a computer terminal.

"Now, Pumpkin, what was the last thing you remember?" prompted Shego.

"I remember the family trip to my uncle's ranch for Fourth of July!" Kim brightened at this small victory. When in darkness even the smallest light is welcome.

There was a wistful expression on the woman's face, "Ah, about 10 days ago… ."

"Mid-termed memories then," the scientist interjected almost absently, not turning from his terminal, "Almost long-termed and permanent but still subject to dissociative traumas. Such as the NT rounds."

"That's why we're looking after you here," Shego replied, ignoring him and gesturing around her.

It was then that Kim finally took a good look at her surroundings. They were standing in what looked to be a small hospital room complete with beds separated by flimsy blue sheets and all the requisite machines to keep people alive. Her eyebrow arched in confusion as she looked to Shego again.

"We're in a hospital? I thought you said we were in one of Drakken's lairs?" she asked.

"We are, this is just the medical wing. Well… medical _room_ really," Shego corrected herself.

"He _has_ one?"

"HenchCo's new henchmen's union demand that they have medical benefits and on sight care," Drakken grumbled. "Lot of money grubbing nonsense."

"Doc with the way you work I think you'd be happy to have a medical staff here," Shego quipped.

Drakken let out another annoyed huff while Kim giggled a bit at the interaction.

"Well you're laughing, that's a good start," Shego encouraged.

"Guess I can't be too sad if I don't know what the sitch is," Kim remarked.

"Are you sure you want to know then?"

"Positive. Just what exactly happened?"

"How about we first move to somewhere more conducive to conversation," Shego gestured about her, "I really don't like being here."

This took Kim back a moment, but as she really wanted to hear the story, she nodded, "Sure thing, where to?"

"There's a lounge on the women's residence level. As there are not many henchwomen this time around it'll be both quiet and…," a slight hesitation, "cozy." The older woman stepped towards the doors. She paused, looking to see if the younger was going to follow.

Kim was rooted to the spot, her mind working furiously to take in all she was just told. She was shocked out of her revelry and galvanized into motion by Shego's sardonic, "Anytime you're ready Princess."

The two women walked out of the infirmary. As the doors closed Kim could hear Drakken mutter at the computer, "Brains… sponges… it can't be a coincidence they have similar shapes, There must be some way to exploit… Aha! A brain-spon… ." The doors cut him off.

Kim hurried to catch up to the taller woman. "Should I be concerned about him?"

"Cupcake, right now I'd be more concerned about myself if I were you," Shego replied. She lead the way down a the short corridor to a bank of elevators. They entered and Shego pushed a button which started it downward. They rode the short distance in silence, listening to a Muzak'ed version of the O Boyz. When the doors opened Kim had a disoriented moment. The corridor before her would not have been out of place in a moderately upscale, if not lavish, hotel.

"Spankin'," the redhead marveled. "I've never seen one of Drakken's lairs so… ornate."

Shego chuckled, "I know! Isn't it wonderful?"

"The henchman's union again?"

She waved that thought away, "Pfft, please, as if. Most of the union members are men, and you know guys, perfectly happy with battleship chic done in gunmetal grey."

Wordlessly Kim gestured questioningly at the current surroundings.

"Lair Depot closed a couple of their outlets and Drakken couldn't pass up some sweet closeout deals. He couldn't have been happier if we had stolen the stuff."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Okay, _maybe_ he could have been a bit happier, but the important thing is this time around we're styling for once!" The pale woman continued down the corridor past all the doors, including one that was green, to finally turn and enter a set of double doors. Inside was a rather comfy common area like one might find in a college dorm. Three couches formed a U facing an impressively large wall mounted plasma screen with a coffee table set in the center. Along the walls were phones, a few picnic-like dining tables, and several upright and table type arcade games. The farthest wall was appointed as a kitchenette, complete with a pair of refrigerators and microwaves. As predicted, it was currently empty.

Shego padded to one of the iceboxes. "Want anything to drink Kimmie?"

"Uhm, sure. A diet Loca Cola if you have it," Kim took in the room. It actually looked almost… homey. Ron said he once stumbled across a henchmen's rec room, but she had never seen anything like this in any of Drakken's other lairs before. She wondered why. _Because you were too busy causing havoc until the self-destruct was triggered. _

"That can't be true!"

"What can't be true Cupcake?" Shego was on her way back. She tossed a can at her while heading to the sofa pit, "Let's have a seat shall we?"

Catching it, Kim realized she had spoken out loud. "Oh, you know. It can't be true I'm public enemy number one," she covered weakly while opening the soda. She really was no good at lying. So much so that even this attempt to cover her musings came off as lame-ish. She followed her long time foe and took a seat on one of the "side" sofas, catty-corner yet still close to the one familiar thing… person… in the room, and with that familiarity there was minor comfort.

"Alright," Kim prompted as she took a sip, "Dying of suspense here."

Shego took in a deep breath then slowly exhaled it as she tried to think of the best way to explain the situation to Kim. Deciding to just be direct as always she sat on the corner of her sofa and placed her hand on Kim's shoulder and looked her directly in the eyes.

"It's like this," she started slowly. "You and Stoppable were out doing your usual hero thing against some new villain… Arcadian I think. Something stupid like that. Anyway, during the fight there was an… accident and… well Arcadian got hurt pretty badly."

"How badly?" Kim forced herself to ask suddenly wondering if she really did want to know the answer.

"The 'not getting up ever again' kinda badly."

"Paralyzed?" she asked hopefully.

Shego just closed her eyes and shook her head from side-to-side.

"Oh my God," Kim whispered, a wave of nausea coming over her.

She felt like she was going to fall off the edge of her own seat but thankfully Shego held on tight to her shoulder to keep her upright, taking the soda can with her other hand and placing it on the table. Once she felt she could stay upright on her own, and to hear more of the story, she looked at Shego again. "Even if that's true… why would everyone turn against me? They had to know it was an accident."

"Because it didn't look like one. There was security footage that indicated otherwise."

"No! I could never… Could I?"

With a sigh Shego picked up an elaborate and complex remote off the table in front of them. She pointed it at the big screen and clicked in a sequence after it blazed to life. "It's been playing nearly nonstop on all the news channels. And even some of the non-news ones."

Kim was aghast, "You TiVo'ed it??"

Shego had the grace to seem somewhat embarrassed. "I TiVo everything about you Princess."

"Know thy enemy, eh?"

The woman winced momentarily, "Something like that. Ah here it is."

On the screen was an industrial warehouse. The angle indicating the camera was up near the ceiling. The view was a close-up so it was slightly grainy but still clear enough for her to recognize herself facing a stocky man nearly her own height. However the colors were slightly wrong. She commented to that fact.

"Digital enhancements. The area was dimly lit," Shego supplied.

Kim watched as the man leveled a gun at her. When it discharged screen-Kim moved almost too fast for the eye to see and suddenly the man flipped onto his back, still.

"What was that?"

Clicking away on the remote the pale woman remarked, "Fast, I know… don't worry, in addition to the enhancements, they have it in painfully slo-mo. Observe Kimmie, for this is very interesting."

The scene repeated in very slow motion from the moment Arcadian fired. Screen-Kim shifted to one side while bringing her arms up, a glow enveloping them. "What the hell!?" Real Kim exclaimed.

"Right? I said the same thing. Keep watching."

Screen-Kim cupped glowing hands about something and rapidly pivoted about on her foot like a top. When she was again facing the shooter her arms extended, cupped hands opening like a ten-fingered flower right at him. The scene froze and closed in. Out of the corner of her eye Kim could see that Shego was not manipulating the remote, which meant that this was the feed as it was aired. Finally the zoom stopped until only her hands filled the frame, a circle super-imposed to highlight a small blurry object just leaving them. The footage then looped backward and forward several times to emphasize that it was truly coming from the cupped and glowing palms.

Standing, Kim walked closer to the screen, staring. "Is that a… a… ."

"A bullet? Yes Cupcake," came the quiet confirmation from behind her. "Somehow you caught the bullet and sent it right back at him. Right between the eyes."

Turning away from the damning scene, Kim folded her arms across her stomach as it had the same sick sinking feeling she had experienced at the original moment even if she could not fully remember the incident. She started to shiver as if chilled to the bone. "I… I… killed a man…," she lifted her head to lock eyes with the other woman's, the same green shade as her own. _How come I never noticed that before,_ she wondered, _Why am I noticing now?_

Responding to the shock and pain in the gaze, the older woman got up and without a word sashayed over and embraced the trembling teen in a full hug. Kim had never before allowed Shego to get that close to her without being prepared to defend herself, to fight for her life. Now she allowed herself to be pulled into the warmth of the woman's embrace and buried her face into the proffered bosom. It felt very comforting.

"But how did I…," slightly muffled.

"I don't know Pumpkin."

"And what was that about my arms glowing?"

"I don't know Pumpkin."

"Why would everyone turn on me for one thing? After all the times I saved the world?"

"Weeellll…," Shego drew the word out a little too long.

Pulling away a little Kim looked up at her, her eyes rimming with redness, "What?"

Sighing, Shego guided them back to her place on the sofa. She sat, pulling the distraught hero into her lap, cradling her like a child and resting her chin on top of Kim's red head. _Not resisting me, she _is_ upset!_ "There was extensive questioning by the authorities, but thanks to the testimony of both the buffoon and Laura Charles… ."

"Who?" She sounded small and very vulnerable.

"The famous iJay also know as Vanity. You rescued her."

"Oh, yeah."

"Due to their testimony you were released on your own recognizance pending a more formal inquiry. You were instructed not to leave your state. Unfortunately within a span of 3 days you had run ins with both Adrena Lynn and Frugal Lucre." Feeling the redhead tense up she added hastily, "They were local, you didn't have to leave Colorado to deal with them."

"What happened?"

"Lynn ended up badly beaten… ."

"How badly?" came the tiny voice.

"The only thing not broken was her nose."

"Shit."

"I didn't think you used words like that Cupcake."

"It fits and its how I feel."

"Yeah, I guess it does at that. However as there was no video footage to the contrary and taking into consideration the extreme nature of Adrena's usual stunts, they were willing to accept that she fell victim to her own trap. Only two days after Arcadian and they were willing to suspend belief to accept your word. They _wanted_ to believe you."

"That's nice. And Lucre?"

"Neither of you were as lucky that time."

"He's not…?"

"No no, he's alive, but in much the same condition as Lynn. Only this time, not only was there a camera, it was a live feed on the net. With a full-body glow you proceeded to beat him silly. It was the first time I ever saw the Thousand Legs Kick…,"

"_I_ did the Thousand Legs?" the cheerleader said weakly.

"With perfect form," she confirmed, "Which is not surprising. I got to see your Thousand Arms Fist first hand."

"When did I… ."

"The L'il Diablos thing, just before you found out about… ."

"Don't remind me."

"Right, anyway your kick was so powerful it sent him flying ten feet through a concrete wall. All of his ribs and limbs were shattered. It was a miracle his neck wasn't too." Shego paused to see if Kim had anything to say but all she heard were quiet sobs. She continued, "The entire world saw it happen as it happened. Live. That's when the public began to outcry and the media circus came to town on your ass.

"You were taken into custody. There were arraignments and hearings and one of the most widely broadcast trials I've ever seen convened. Several people testified on your behalf, but it was hard to dispute the parade of career criminals and henchpeople brought in to relate their various experiences with you."

"They let _villains_ testify?"

"That's the American justice system for you. I swear, if lawyers as a whole were to be declared criminals, you'd see they've _already_ taken over the world."

"Bastards."

The woman chuckled, reflecting that in less than a minute she heard more foul language from the pure-as-driven-snow teenager than she thought the girl even knew. "Anyway, it had such world wide coverage Arcadian would have wanted a slice of that pie."

"Was I convicted?"

"Not really."

Kim pulled back to look at her again. This time her eyes were definitely red, tears tracking her cheeks. "Not really how?"

"You broke out of jail before the trial ended."

That snapped the redhead out of her lethargic self-pity. She scrambled off the woman's lap and stood over her, "You _lie!"_

"Almost everyday," Shego quipped, "but not to you Kimmie. Never to you."

"The bullet thing was clearly self-defense!" Kim pointed to the screen behind her.

"That is the backbone of your defense."

"Adrena Lynn was not used to doing her own stunts before going up against me, that had to have been an accident!"

"And Lucre?" Shego raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know! I don't remember! But… but he gets all his stuff from Smarty Mart's discounted and discontinued aisles, so they couldn't have been all that safe."

"Riiight Princess," the henchwoman crossed arms and legs, her indignation apparent. "Smarty Mart sold him a substandard _concrete wall._ That makes sense!"

"I don't remember! But one thing _do_ I know is that I would never break out of jail‼ The truth will out!"

Arms uncrossed to hold up hands to try and calm her down. "Whoa whoa whoa… slow your roll Kimmie. Not only did you break out of jail, you contacted me for help and eluded a massive manhunt mounted by Global Justice and spearheaded by your dufus _boy_friend," again the strange inflection, "_For two days._"

That had the desired effect of taking the wind out of the fallen hero's sails. Kim stood there, her arm still pointing behind her. Her eyes grew larger than the woman had ever seen them and her mouth flopped up and down wordlessly.

"R… Ron? GJ? No way!" she finally squeaked out.

"Way Princess. You were nearly captured before I could make the rendezvous to extract you."

"And that's another sitch!" Kim finally stopped pointing in order to place hands on hips and stamp her foot, "Why on earth would I come crawling to _you?"_ The last word contained all the venom a teenage girl could muster, infused with four years of adversarial anger.

If she had intentionally intended to hurt Shego, she succeeded as proved by the devastated look the pale woman gave her in return.

Kim paused, her anger suddenly deflated. She relaxed her stance as she looked into eyes the same color as her own, and _remembered!_

Remembered the last time she had seen that look on Shego's face… .

* * *

I swear I can't even say in my head "Drakken's Lair" without hearing the blurb-voice of the arcade game...

Well here is the 2nd chapter. As I warned y'all I lifted parts mostly-and-nearly word for word – yet carefully trimmed like a bonzai tree – from BlackBird's AIRW 2nd chapter, the part that fired my inspiration. There is only one more passage I'll pull from him which is equally a part of the inspiration(Thanks again BB!), which you'll see in the next installment, but as you can tell by now I'll be deviating from AIRW radically from there out as this is not about a clone, but Kim herself.

After that, it'll all be moi, I promise.

I'm still open to suggestions and comments on her evil costume. Destikim, seriously, I'm about to contact you…

Oh, is there any sort of rule that might prevent me from using "Kigo" for Kim's evil career name once she gets rolling?


	3. You Always Hurt…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission. I know much of the opening part is familiar, but I've sprinkled a lot of myself throughout as well as shifting the focus onto Kim more than following Shego's thoughts, so no fair skipping ahead!

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Three – _You Always Hurt…_

It was the Friday before the Arcadian mission and it was shaping up to kick off what was just another normal weekend for Kim.

Unfortunately that included another fight with Shego.

Kim and Ron were responding to another of Wade's tips about a break-in at yet another of Middleton's seemingly endless high-tech labs, this one for the research of everything Lightening.

"Ya know," Ron commented earlier, "For a small town in the Mid-West, there's an awful lot of research going on around here." To which Wade had mumbled something about low populations and acceptable loss that sparked off a back and forth debate about ethics between Kim and Ron that as usual the blond boy had a hard time letting go as they were trying to enter the building unannounced.

Thus Kim was hardly surprised that Shego was on them nearly the moment they arrived.

So for what seemed like the billionth time, the two women locked in mortal combat. Ordering Ron to try and distract Drakken, Kim began to dodge Shego's plasma blasts until she was close enough to engage her in hand-to-hand combat. As with the many times before, the two were nearly evenly matched, fighting each other to a stand still, neither one really gaining an advantage, but neither losing ground either.

After many intense minutes of sparring they broke apart to catch their breath, standing several feet apart while eying the other cautiously.

"I thought Drakken had given up on this sort of stuff after being globally recognized for his part in the Lorwardian invasion," Kim inquired in an effort to stretch out the break some.

"Please," Shego waved a hand dismissively, also willing to extend the timeout, "As if that was even going to last any length of time. Sure they were grateful for like a week, but that didn't mean the scientific community was any more willing to accept any of his whack ideas and inventions than before. Dr D said something about it being like college all over again, so he's back to taking over the world."

"Ahh! Shocking! Shockiiing‼" Ron ran between them in a classic serpentine dash, a series of lightening bolts licking at his heels. An instant later Drakken whizzed past in a chair suspended from the ceiling on an articulated arm, seated behind a high-tech looking device from which the deadly electricity spat. "I'll show you shocking… nnnrg! Why don't you stand still and smile for the 'camera'!"

"So Princess, still going out with that loser?" Shego quipped, hooking a thumb in the direction the pair had gone, the hand still lit in plasma.

Kim snarled a bit at the remark. "He's _not_ a loser! And yes, I am. In fact, we did have plans for tonight until _someone_ decided to do something criminal."

"Oh, do you mean little ol' me?" the pale woman feigned innocence before moving in to reengage, lashing out with a high kick that Kim sidestepped. "You should be thanking me for sparing you another crappy date at Bueno Nacho."

Kim flushed red a bit in embarrassment as she blocked another of Shego's punches.

"Thought as much. I'm telling you Kimmie, he really is a buffoon."

"No. He's. Not!" Kim cried back, throwing a punch with each word, the last one finding it's mark on the other woman's chin.

Shego's head rocked with the blow and when she brought her head back around, she rubbed her chin with a sly smile. "Oooh, seems like I touched a nerve," she teased. "I mean that punch was pretty hard even for you Cupcake."

"Maybe you'll learn to stop dissing my boyfriend!" Kim shouted.

"Maybe I will when you finally wise up. I mean seriously, how long can you expect this thing to last?"

Again Kim went silent as a blush returned to her cheeks though this one was much brighter. So much so that it caused Shego to drop her defensive stance and just blink at the redhead incredulously.

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you've thought _that_ far ahead!" she cried out, waving her hands a bit frantically and making a "time out" gesture.

"Well… " Kim replied slowly.

"Oh God, you have," Shego sighed, running a hand down her face. "Let me guess, you thought about kids too, huh?"

The girl went even more red. "I really don't think this is something we should be discussing."

"Yeah, you're right, cause you should be smarter than that. I mean, _really_ think about the kids! They'll be all redheaded and stupid. They'll have to go to special schools. It'll cost a fortune!"

That snapped Kim out of her embarrassed daze and right back into anger. She let out a small growl before leaping towards the pale green woman again. Shego easily countered the attack by grabbing the redhead's ankle, pivoting to use the girl's own momentum and send her flying across the lab. Kim flipped through the air to right herself for a landing, skidding a few inches on the floor. She quickly stood up and glared at Shego only to find her smirking once again.

"Gee, just one bad thing and you go flying right off the handle. That's gotta tell ya something," she gloated.

"Yeah, that you should have listened to me earlier and stop talking bad about Ron," Kim shot back as somewhere behind her she heard Ron still evading Drakken doing his Zeus bit. "Rufus! Buddy! A little help here! Ahh!"

Shego pointed in that general direction, "Not as long as you keep dating him."

"Why?! What does it matter to you!"

"Because I know you can do so much better!" Shego shouted, again gesturing frantically.

"And what makes you so sure of that?!" the redhead screamed, not really sure why she was getting into this conversation with her arch rival.

"Because… I just… do! I mean… there's someone else out there that's a much better match for you than Stoppable."

"Out there?"

"Or… you know… in here… ."

"Really?" Kim asked, placing her hand on her hips. "And who might this mystery person be?"

This time it was Shego's posture that turned to one of embarrassment and uncertainty. "Well… like… maybe… mm," the last word died in a mumble.

Kim stood blinking in surprise and confusion as she stared at Shego who was also quiet now but her look was one more of shame and anger. "What did you say?" she asked, breaking the silence and snapping the woman out of her quandary.

Shego looked back at Kim, her normally battle hardened face now soft with conflicting emotions of confusion, nervousness and just a bit of fear. It was an expression the redheaded girl had never seen on the older woman before and she wasn't sure she liked. Something seemed to be at odds within her.

"…mem…"

"Come again now?"

"I said 'me'," Shego repeated a little louder, a determination evidently reached.

"You… what?"

"Me. I'm a better match for you than he is."

"Match as in… how?" Kim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Come on Kimmie, you're smarter than this. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Shego said, now sounding a bit annoyed.

"I'm not sure I do. I mean are we talking about… ."

"Yes! I have feelings for you!"

"Feelings like you want to hurt me or…?"

"I love you!" Shego finally cried out in exasperation. "There, I finally said it!"

Except for several flashes of electrical discharges somewhere on the other side of the massive banks of equipment and computers behind Shego, the room was still and silent as the two rivals just stared at each other from across their part of the lab which now somehow seemed so much bigger. Kim stood there staring at the pale woman blankly for several heartbeats before she finally said something. It was faint enough that even she barely heard herself.

"What?" Shego asked, her own voice sounding quiet and distant.

"I can't believe you," Kim repeated a bit more loudly as her hands balled into fists and her body shook a bit.

"Kimmie?"

_"Don't!"_ the girl screamed, jabbing an angry finger towards her opponent. "No more cute little nicknames! Not after you have the nerve to pull a stunt like this!"

"A 'stunt like this'?!" Shego shouted back, sounding genuinely offended. "I'm opening my heart to you, pouring out emotions I've kept bottle up for longer than I care to admit and you're calling it a _'stunt'?!_"

"What else would it be?!" Kim yelled, now throwing her arms up as Shego had done before. "I mean you think you can just drop the L-bomb and expect me to believe you're in _love_ with me?!"

"Why not?"

"Oh do you want me to go down the list?! Because I _so_ will!"

"Look, I admit this is a bit weird… ."

"Oh weird doesn't even _begin_ to describe this."

"Shut up and let me finish!" Shego snapped.

She waited to see if Kim was going to make another comeback, but when the girl just folded her arms and cocked her head towards her, Shego took that as a sign to continue.

"Good," she nodded. "Now as I was saying, I actually _am_ in love with you. And don't ask me how it started, I'm not really sure myself. I just know that… for awhile now I've… noticed you. In a… different way."

Kim's eyes widened at that. "You've been checking me out?!"

"Well… yes. Especially when you got that new outfit there. I admit I miss seeing your midriff but the shirt being tighter is a plus. And though a little late in the game, you've been developing too. You're now what, a B-cup?"

The teen hero let out an astonished squawk before moving her crossed arms up over her chest to hide them from the other woman's gaze. Shego rolled her eyes a bit at the move, but still frowned slightly.

"Anyway," she continued, "I wasn't really sure what was happening. I thought maybe I was going insane or something. Maybe it was a side effect from when _someone_ kicked me into an electrical tower! In the rain!"

Kim's expression and stance softened a bit at that part. "Yeah… well… that's not something I'm proud of. I just got carried away there. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"But see that's another reason why I can't believe you. I mean… shouldn't you be mad at me for that?"

"Oh I was," Shego said with a malicious glint in her eye. "I spent a lot of time in prison wanting to do nothing more than wring you pretty cheerleading neck for that one." She paused and blinked when she realized she had her hands in the choking motion. She lowered them with a sigh as she looked back at Kim. "But eventually I realized it was my own fault. Well… mostly Drakken's for coming up with that stupid plan to begin with, but I went along with it. Hell I even pushed the envelope a bit by making that remark about 901… Erik." She glanced down for a second before looking sheepishly at the girl, "Sorry about that."

"You should be," Kim muttered. "None of this has really convinced me though." _Convincing? What do I need_ _convincing for?_

"I know. I know it sounds weird and crazy and maybe even a bit pathetic, but it's how I feel! I _can't_ help that!" she huffed. "But it's not like we're totally incompatible. I mean we got along great when I was Miss Go, remember?"

A tiny smirk found it's way onto Kim's lips as memories of those almost care-free few days came back to her.

"Yeah," she almost whispered. "Yeah we definitely got along great then. And I have to admit it was pretty fun hanging out."

"See?!" Shego asked, almost desperately. "We _can_ get along!"

"All it takes is for you to get Attitudinatored into someone completely different," Kim scoffed.

"But why? Why can't we try to work through this without either one of us having to change?"

"You know why!" Kim screamed, tugging at her hair and pacing angrily a bit. "I'm a hero! You're a villain! It's never going to work! Plus… you're a girl! I'm not into girls, I'm into guys! This whole thing just…," she trailed off with a frustrated growl then spun around to stare at Shego. "We are just so… _wrong_ for each other!"_ Why do I sound like I'm even considering this?_ Kim thought, "And you know that! You _know_ that! You know that I'm finally in a happy and somewhat stable relationship with the only guy who's _always_ been there for me! So I think this whole 'Kimmie I've been secretly in love with you' thing is just another way for you to make fun of me and at Ron's expense.

"So I'm sorry if I'm not all gushy over the whole thing!" Kim finished her tirade with another frustrated sigh as she swung her arms violently to her side and turned away.

On the other side of the lab and still out of line of sight something exploded. Ron crowed, "Booyah Rufus! Way to circuit his shorts! High five!"

Kim stood there, her back still to Shego, and waited for the usual smart-ass retort from her about how this all one big joke or scam and how she didn't really expect her to fall for it. When neither of those options happened, she snuck a glance at her and was startled to see that Shego was actually turned away from her and that her shoulders were slumped a bit. The biggest shock were the noises that were coming from the pale woman. It almost sounded like she was… whimpering.

For a second, Kim felt bad until she realized that this was probably just more of Shego's plan. So instead of offering an apology or a comforting hand she just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Oh don't _act_ like you're hurt," she pleaded. "Now you're just embarrassing both of us."

At that remark, Shego spun around and glared at Kim with an expression the younger woman had never seen before, filled with anger and… pain. So focused were they that neither barely registered another small explosion in the background followed by Drakken calling that it was time to go. It was only when Ron came skidding around the far end of the aisle of machinery yelling to Kim about Drakken getting away that Shego spun about and ran for it.

Just before she rounded the corner, the pale green woman paused. "You know Kimmie, it turns out Drakken was right about something after all…

"Words _do_ hurt,"

Kim stood rooted to the spot, transfixed by that final sad look her rival gave her before disappearing from sight. She almost knew that look. It had much in common with her own Puppy Dog Pout. Only where Kim had practiced her pout in the mirror everyday for a month, perfecting it for pin-point "deadliness" before unleashing it against her parents for intentional strategic effect, the look Shego gave her was real, heartfelt and decidedly not practiced. It spoke everything the woman was feeling at that moment. It spoke of a hope and a love dashed into a million pieces, and of a floodgate of tears barely held back. Kim immediately had a name for this look.

A _Kicked_ Puppy Dog Pout.

* * *

The same look that Shego was giving her now.

Kim clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. "Omigod, Shego! I didn't mean… I'm sorr… I remember Shego! _I remember!_" The redhead blurted rapidly, her eyes suddenly filled with regret and sorrow. "I'm soo sorry, I didn't mean that."

The Kicked Puppy Dog looked back at her filled with all the same pain she saw that night, and something else Kim wasn't sure she recognized. Not on the face of a woman. Had it been Ron staring at her like that she would have known it instantly. As it was she had to infer it from the memory.

"Yes Kim, you did mean it."

_Kim. _Not Kimmie or Cupcake, or the one that she had gotten most used to: Princess. Kim. _She _is_ hurt! _she thought, immediately followed by,_ The hell of it is, I suddenly miss her calling me "Princess"._

_Why is that?_

"Oh no, no Shego… I didn't. I only just now remembered the Lightening Lab. Not all of my memories are back, but that part just went crystal." Kim dropped to her knees in front of the sitting woman, "Everything isn't there yet, just enough for me to know that I must have called you for help. Now I'm sure of it even without all the supporting memories."

Shego, her legs still crossed, recrossed her arms and turned her head in an offended huff. The teenager could feel the usual Shego emotional armor going back up as she said nothing.

"Please Shego…," Kim pleaded. "You're right. I meant it, but only because my brain was still firing only on what I knew from last week. I don't remember it all but now I know enough to know I've faced some sort of… epiphany."

Kim could feel that she was reaching her. The emotional shielding had not been erected in time and she was reeling the woman back in. _Time to pull out the Big Guns._

The pale woman had dared to turn her head slightly to sneak a peak at the redhead from the corner of her eyes. "Ack! What is that!?" she made the mistake of snapping her head back around fully and got it with both barrels right in the face.

Kim's Puppy Dog Pout.

Made even more "lethal" by the fact that the fallen hero was sitting back, resting her butt on her heels, her hands clutched in her lap so that her arms pulled her shoulders tighter together. The posture also served to push up and emphasize her breasts. "Forgive me pwetty pwease?" in a voice that was purely diabetic – and diabolic – in sweetness.

"Agh!" Shego reacted like she wanted to scramble backwards over the sofa to get away, her arms windmilling, hands scrabbling for purchase on the back cushions. It was a posture which served to leave her even wider open to the psychological attack for precious seconds and allowing the teen time to shift so that her hip rested firmly against the older woman's right leg. Finding her motion momentarily compromised, Shego opted for the next best expedient defense.

She put up a hand to shield her eyes.

Only Kim leaned far enough to the side that one of her eyes slowly crept back into view, like the moon easing out from behind an eclipse. Shego yanked her foot free and bodily turned away on the sofa, squeezing her eyes firmly shut even as the hand still protected her face. "Put that _thing_ away! I'm not talking to you until you do!"

"Okay, safe now," was the perky reply, "All clear!"

Cautiously the henchwoman inched her hand down, squinting through barely opened eyelids to make sure that the coast was indeed clear and that there would be no sneak attacks, no ambush. True to her word, as always, Kim was still sitting in the same position but the devastating expression nowhere in sight.

"What the _hell_ was _that?_" she exclaimed.

"Just my secretest of weapons," Kim smiled demurely.

"You're telling me! I'm so grateful you never pulled that on me in a fight!" despite herself Shego chuckled.

"Well you're laughing. That's a good start," Kim used Shego's words from earlier in the medical ward.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Okay, so what about this epiphany of yours?" Though recrossing her arms, this time Shego was more relaxed. Almost like when they first entered the lounge.

"I'm not saying I remember it all yet, but I do have an overwhelming certainty that I did call you for help," Kim rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as if answers were to be found there. "Something about a… list? Or maybe not being on it?"

"You must mean the Class Action Suit," Shego nodded.

"That what now??"

"Class Action Suit. Once you were arraigned and it was obvious that public opinion was a rising tide against you, every Tom, Crook and Dirty Harry came out of the woodwork seeking damages against you for every time you rained on their parade." The woman ticked off with her fingers, "Lairs destroyed with personal property, vehicles lost, injuries and medical bills, the difference in cost for spiraling HenchCo fees… not to mention the henchman's union started mostly because of you…, experimental doohickeys not recovered… and my personal favorite, pain and suffering."

"Hold it, wait. Back up." Kim did the "T for time out", "Things not recovered? How can villains and henchmen…,"

"Henchpersons."

"…and hench – persons? – sue me for their lost and unrecoverable items?"

"Not every name on the suit was a criminal," Shego explained, "Several scientists, businesses and corporations jumped on the bandwagon too. Take for example the damage done to the Bermuda Triangle casino during our fight. There was that Ray X that you were unable to protect and returned destroyed. Your local Bueno Nacho had to be rebuilt after our first encounter. Or those moodulators things; only two prototypes in existence, both burned out."

"Doctor Bortel? But that wasn't my… it was yo… why would he…,"

"You were handy, Dr D and I weren't," Shego shrugged. "Anyway there were something like 5000 names sited in the suit."

"But… not yours."

"No Kimmie, not mine," Shego assured.

_Kimmie again, I won her back! _Then,_ Why is that so important? _

"So what now?" asked the girl.

A knowing smirk returned to the pale woman's face. She spread her arms invitingly, "You tell me Cupcake. _You _called_ me_, remember?"

Kim just cut her a look.

"Right, sorry."

"I know what you meant," the teen rubbed her chin. "There is something floating at the back of my mind but I can't quite put my finger on it… wait a minute! Are you saying that you're willing to help me?"

Shego flashed her a sardonic smile, "I thought you said Lightening Labs was crystal."

The young redhead flushed. "Yes, it is. And you still feel the same way?"

The woman gestured to the room in general about them, "We're here, aren't we? I went and got you, didn't I? And how hard do you think I had to sell Dr D on not only going to get you but bringing you back to his latest lair?"

Smiling, Kim lifted her right fist and made a plasma whoosh sound effect.

"There was that, but still you and lairs don't have the best history together."

"So then, you still…," for some reason Kim found herself blushing and being coquettish, wanting the older woman to finish for her.

Running a hand down her face Shego studied Kim. There was a strangely intent expression on the fallen hero's face that was almost unsettling. With a darker green suffusing her cheeks, Shego looked Kim steadily in the eyes, "Yes Princess, I still love you."

"Even after the way I treated you that night?"

"I'm not going to say I wasn't hurt," she admitted. "As I stewed on the ride home I got more and more upset, and by the time we got back I was as mad as a badger." Anger flashed briefly behind her eyes even as her face melted from its usual sardonic expression. She sighed, "But I couldn't stay mad. I realized that night was just as much my fault as anything else.

"I hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. That was no place to profess feelings of love to anyone. What was I thinking doing that in the middle of a fight? I _wasn't_ is what! I mean, there I was dissing your date's plans when even Bueno Nacho would have been a better setting than some laboratory in the middle of the night!

"You had every right to respond the way you did. I deserved it."

Rising up on her knees to bring their faces to the same level, Kim placed her hands on Shego's knees. Locking gazes with the pale woman she spoke solemnly, "I forgive you Shego. And… I'm sorry I was so inconsiderate of your feelings. That had to have been a hard thing to say regardless. It's just that I know you've shown an interest in guys in the past, so I just thought, you know, you were straight."

"I am straight."

Now that took the teenager aback, "But… you said you…,"

"Love _you_. Not women, not guys. You." The sardonic smirk was back.

"Then you're saying you're bi?"

"I'm not sure what labels apply here, if any," a bigger sigh, "I do like guys and find them very appealing, and I'm not turned on by women. _Other_ women," she placed her own hands on top of Kim's still resting on her knees, "At first you were just an annoyance, an enemy. Then a rival capable of giving me a good workout, challenging me to push at my best levels, and I'd find myself looking forward to our skirmishes.

"Then of course there was that week we spent together when I was turned _good_," she nearly spat the word, then paused as Kim got a sudden faraway look to her eye. The same expression she had just a few minutes before.

Kim was remembering again.

* * *

Okay, this is the last time you will see passages lifted wholesale from BlackBird's AIRW. From here out its all me darlings!

I've been dreaming up my own set of OC's for WPS, villains and heroes alike, and expect to see versions of characters from other franchises, Disney and non.

Though I could use your help in pulling up some Latinas from other sources – preferably bad girls or even just bitchy – to use/model/reference for an all girl gang of criminals, of which you will meet one next time. I do however have a visual model for one of them, and she's even a background character from STD and maybe even "The New Ron" but for slight differences.

I see where many writers indicate their posting schedule. Okay, I posted chapters 1 and 2 only a couple days apart, and this one is still in the same week. However I think I'll try posting only once a week from here out. Look for the next installment either between Friday and Saturday, according how my life is running each week.

So that you know, as I'm writing this I'm nearly done with Chapter 5...

Reviews will get a reply!

LR


	4. Total Drama

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Four – _Total Drama_

It was Saturday.

Two days after the trial had begun.

Court was adjourned for the weekend and Kim found herself interred at Colorado's Lemon Correctional Facility in nearby Lemon County. The reason given for her being in maximum security holding for the weekend as opposed to the local county lockup was because she was considered a high risk. All the more so because her new glow, erratic as it was, seemed to boost all of her natural abilities including her strength. She found the lack of trust in her unsettling, but even more disturbing were the couple of messages she had gotten from her former masters in response to her queries about the sudden appearance of the glow.

All seemed to agree that its manifestation was a response to her life and death encounter with Sno'Nuff combined with the sudden realization of her own master status. However there was general concern as to its appearance.

Or more to the point, its _color_.

While information was sparse and varied owing to the variety of the styles and their origins, as well as the rarity of individuals touching much less achieving the Final Level, the overall consensus was that for a person pure of heart it should have been golden in hue. Anything other indicated impurities of the soul, with red the worst of all and generally associated with a darkness. Possibly even the taint of evil.

Just the thing to send her into serious reflection and self-doubt.

_I don't remember much about the ending of the Arcadian mission, which can be chalked up to being near passed out when I achieved the Final Level, but I scared even myself with Lynn and Lucre. _She stared at her open hand, curling and uncurling it into a fist. _My moves and reflexes have always been somewhat instinctual, but I don't know where those final furies came from!_

Outfitted in the neon-bright orange jumpsuit of a prisoner, Kim wandered about the yard during the afternoon exercise period under the alert and ever watchful eyes of armed Correctional Officers in the towers at each corner of, and patrolling along the catwalks atop, the walls. While Lemon County Correctional maintained separate wings for the men and women, the yards were co-ed, and thus one of the coveted high points of the day for both genders.

Kim tried her best to keep her distance from the other inmates, finding it more than just a little daunting to be walking among so many of the very same criminals and villains she had faced off against in the past four or so years. Normally incarcerated in many facilities spread around the world, they had been brought in to testify against her at the trial, and thus the weekend found them concentrated in the one prison along with her.

The teenager played back in her mind the parade of her enemies and foes on the witness stand and how the prosecutor slanted the questioning in such a way as to make it seem that they were the victims during her many encounters with them. That she had continually persecuted them for no more reason than she felt the need to, and he used air quotes, "save the world." They studiously avoided any of the incidents in which there was no disputing her actions did indeed save the world and many innocent lives. Instead they concentrated on the numerous lesser conflicts where her interventions were either coincidental or where she took the initiative from a tip by Wade.

Villains, sidekicks, and henchmen - that most of the time she had never even seen the faces of for the masks they wore - all told tales of being beat down mercilessly by the teen hero.

Even Kim herself began to wonder at her culpability. _Am I really that bad?_

Then Friday afternoon while she was in the courthouse holding cell awaiting transportation to Lemon, and thinking things could not possibly get worse, she received a visit from a slick looking young man in a business suit.

"Hank Perkins," she crossed her arms.

"I see you remember me Miss Possible, I'm flattered," his tone had gotten slicker and more self-assured since his first temp job for Dr Drakken.

"What do you want Hank?"

He handed her a folded document through the bars, "You've been served."

Taking it she looked at him puzzled, "And this is…?"

"A Class Action Suit has been entered against you for Losses, Damages, Pain and Suffering incurred of my clients by you."

"_WHAT!?"_

He reached into his briefcase and handed her a two inch thick file in a pressure binder, "Here are the particulars and a list of the complainants. We are seeking a judgment of 500 billion dollars"

Words and jaw muscles failed Kim as the sharply suited youth turned and walked away, swinging his attaché jauntily.

Kim had only managed to scan the documents briefly that night before lights-out was called. She caught a few of the names on the "complainants" list; Lipsky, Lipsky, Demenz, Killigan, Lynn by proxy, and so on. Yet the one name she actively sought was conspicuously missing. Shego's.

_Maybe she really meant it when she said she loves me, _she marveled.

"Miss Possible," A cheery thick East European accent cut into her reverie.

Kim turned to see a smiling woman only a little taller than herself walking over, "Do I know you?"

"You should," the woman answered, "Of course I don't blame you, one of the purposes of my Techno-Borg hairdo was to hide my identity."

"Electronique!" Kim was surprised.

The woman nodded, "I was. Now I'm simply Véronique Electra, electronics engineer extraordinaire."

"I'm surprised to see you still in jail. Figured you'd've broken out of Go Away Prison last year the same time as Aviarius and Mathter."

The villainess chuckled. "When you last saw me I said I was going to serve out the remainder of my time, and so I shall."

"Well sure, you had just been Attitudinatored."

The prisoner nodded, "Sure was!"

"You… you're still…," Kim stared at her, a sudden dread going down her spine. She lowered her voice, "They didn't change you back? You know, reverse it?"

"Why should they? After all, if they did that it'd only make it harder to keep me in line, yes?"

The teen's head reeled as the import of what Electronique was telling her seeped in. _They left her like this! s_he thought. The woman was left "good" because it was more convenient for them. Kim realized that had the effects of the Attitudinator been reversed it would have been far more difficult to keep her in line. They would have had to take extensive and expensive steps to keep her away from anything with wires and circuits, and in this day and age that is a difficult proposition. Even her past specially non-conductive all-plastic cells never held her for long.

A "good" Electronique was far easier to deal with, but it was also so very… Machiavellian. _Can the ends ever justify the means?_

_Should it?_

_I heard what she said as they arrested her, but I didn't do anything, didn't speak up to suggest it would be unethical to even entertain the idea! And I thought nothing further about it since._ When Ron had been hit by the device she had not rested until he was restored to normal. Yet Kim realized that the woman that stood before her, as she was, was hardly normal for her.

_This is wrong-sick! What does this say about our justice system?_

Then Kim realized she herself had been willing to allow Shego to continue as Miss Go, all because it would be so easy to be friends if she remained good.

_What does that say about _me_?_

While Kim had not been a victim of the Attitudinator, she had felt the effects of both a mind control chip and the Moodulator. She had been fully aware of reality while under both devices and had hated every second of the lack of control even as she could do or say nothing about it. Ron also said he was fully aware, and to this day can remember everything about both times he fell victim to it.

Kim wondered if that was how Shego felt all the while she was Miss Go. _She remembers and still misses spending time and being with me, even though she must have _hated_ what that thing did to her just as much as Ron did._

_And now she loves me? _

The teen hero looked at the inmate before her and wondered if she was a prisoner inside her own head as much as her body was inside these walls.

Still smiling the former villainess pulled out of her Correctional Orange jumpsuit a cobbled together contraption that looked mostly like an MP3 player with a bent wire hanger in the microphone jack.

"Stand still for a moment please," she said waving it up and down the teenager's body like a security wand at an airport, all the while watching the screen. Finally she nodded and turned away, "Thank you Miss Possible."

Even as the redhead stared at her retreating back, wondering what that had been about, another cultured voice spoke from just behind her.

"Ah, Ms Possible."

"Señor Senior Sr." Kim turned to find the elderly gentleman standing there leaning on his cane, a younger man alongside him, the earplugs of a music player disappearing into his breast pocket, "And Junior."

"Hello." came the bored reply.

"I see you've met the nice Ms Electra," he nodded his grey haired head in the direction the woman had taken before disappearing among the other orange jumpsuited inmates.

Kim nodded, still very disturbed by the implications of the woman's presence and attitude, "Yes. I wonder what her sitch is with that device. I'd have thought they'd keep such things away from her."

As if he had read her mind minutes ago, he supplied, "As you can see she is no longer interested in breaking out, so the authorities no longer have a problem with her having access to 'toys'."

"That is so…," the redhead turned to as if to spot her again, "spooky. As Ron would say, 'sick and wrong'."

"Indeed," he agreed. "There is much about the world that is so."

"What can I do for you Señor?" Kim asked, using the man's honorific. After all, for all his being a criminal, he was never anything less than gentlemanly and thus deserving the courtesy due her elders.

"Ah, right to the point. Very good," the man nodded approvingly, "A career in the business world will serve you well in the future."

"Could you return the favor?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I have a proposition for you, my Arch Foe."

"And that would be?"

The Spanish gentleman tapped her shoulder with the tip of his cane. "I am in a position to help you break out of here. Today."

The redhead's eyes widened in surprise. "As generous an offer as that is, why would I want to do something foolish like that?"

"Because, Ms Possible, the trial is going to go badly for you, and I'm sure that when charting your future you never intended to be spending it…," he raised both arms, his cane still in his left hand, to encompass their surroundings by way of finishing his meaning. "Or worse."

"That's true. Still, I think I'll pass," she crossed her arms. "I'm sure the truth will out and I'll be exonerated."

"Ah, the optimism of youth," he sighed wistfully, looking over her shoulder as if at something a long time ago. "That will be squashed all in due time. Allow me to hasten it."

He turned to his son, "Junior, the video please."

The youth stood there staring off into space with his typical "bored chic" expression, his head bobbing to music only he could hear.

Rapping the chest of his son with the cane, the father lifted his voice, "Junior!"

His attention returned, the well developed young man pulled out the earbuds, "But father, I am listening to Nicky Nick's solo debut album!" he whined.

"It is a recording Junior, you may return to it later," the elder explained with the patience only a doting parent of an only child could muster, "Now please, the video."

With a self-sacrificing sigh Junior pulled the player from his breast pocket, "Fine." After thumbing through the play list, he handed it to his father, who in turn proffered it to the redhead.

Curious, Kim took the device. On its screen was the image of Dr Director and Agent Will Du frozen mid-step in a corridor that she recognized as outside Director's office at Global Justice Headquarters. A time-stamp placed it as early Thursday morning, before the first day of the trial even began.

"How did…,"

"Money can buy nearly anything my dear, provided you spread enough of it around," The elderly criminal stated matter-of-factly with all the aplomb of a rich man explaining how his lobster dinner was flown in fresh from the Orient that afternoon. "Regardless of how I have it, I have it. I think you will find it more than worth your while to watch."

Unable to resist, Kim held the buds to her left ear with a cupped hand and hit "Play".

* * *

"…_and that's all for this month's budget projections," Du was finishing up a previous topic. "Now, about the Kim Possible situation. How do you want to play it?"_

_The one-eyed woman paused her stride and turned to face him, "Lay it out for me."_

"_In less than five days time she placed two villains, one of them so minor as to hardly warrant the term_…_,"_

"_That would be Lucre?" Director asked._

"_That is correct sir," he nodded._

"_What was his plan this time?"_

"_Unless everyone in the world paid him a dollar or equivalent, he was going to scramble every pin number in the world. All of them, causing the world's communications systems to be flooded, overloaded and tied up for hours as everyone called all their banks, department stores and Internet sites to have them reset."_

"_An insidious nuisance at best," she smiled, "Continue."_

"_He and Lynn ended up in full body casts while a third villain was killed. Video footage of Arcadian supports her claim of self-defense, however Lucre's pummeling was live on the web. The whole world saw the entire incident start to finish. There is little chance of self-defense holding up there._

"_This new glowing ability of hers apparently enhances her strength and other natural abilities, but she seems to have little to no control over it. One of the sixteen fighting styles she is proficient with is Shun Leep. She may be losing control and succumbing to the influence of the Murder Fist."_

"_Analysis?"_

"_Eighty-three percent initial chance she will maim and kill again, which will then increase after each instance of excessive violence," Will closed the folder he had been carrying._

"_Recommendations?"_

"_Let the trial proceed as it is. The prosecution is about to upgrade to seeking the death penalty. They are already treating her as an adult."_

_Dr Director rubbed her chin, "I don't like this Will. She's saved the world on several occasions."_

"_So did her aunt, not to mention Shego at least once, look where they are now. Kimberly Ann is far more dangerous. The world can ill afford a supervillain the likes of Kim Possible, and GJ would be hard pressed to bring her down."_

_Director protested mildly, "I had plans for her Number One, with high expectations."_

"_I'm sorry ma'am. However if she is not stopped, and soon, she could quickly grow into a threat which will far out-weigh any potential she has as an asset. It is time to cut her loose."_

_Hands on hips, Director stared at him coolly, "And that is your professional evaluation? Not harboring any grievances against the 'amateur" who showed you up many times?"_

"_Sir, I am a consummate professional. I do not allow room to cultivate grudges, despite my poor performance in the Professor Green Affair and her varied successes." The serious young man tapped the folder under his arms with fingertips, "My recommendations are entirely backed up by computer analyses and reports submitted by our Psyche Division Experts."_

"_Possible replacements?" Kim wondered if the double meaning was intentional._

_Du pulled out a PDA-like device and clicked through it quickly, "South America has the highest potential, followed by Europe._

_The woman stood motionless for a few more moments absorbing the information. Even on the tiny screen Kim could sense her sharp mind calculating the variables and weighing the outcomes. Finally she spoke, "So be it. _

"_Prepare South American activation scenarios. Worst comes to worst we may need to fight fire with fire._

"_Then inform the members of the jury how they will need to find, and get me the judge on the line."_

"_Yes ma'am," Du nodded._

_Dr Director strode into her office, "Kim Possible will just have to save the world one more time…_

"… _with her execution."_

* * *

The image froze, then cycled back to the first frame. The player nearly slipped from suddenly numb fingers but Junior, alert to his precious toy, snatched it back.

_Execution._

Kim was in shock. Her breath was ragged, heart thumping hard in her chest, legs having trouble supporting her. Grabbing her head with both hands she barely registered Senior admonishing his son to help her to a seat, or that she was now sitting at one of the picnic tables they had been near. Her mind tried to process all the information from the four and a half minute recording but was protesting with a throbbing of her temples as thoughts spun about her head like in a blender set to "frappé".

_Execution?_

_I'm a threat! _

_Like my aunt! I have an evil aunt? _

_Shego?_

_Murder Fist?_

_Jury tampering? Putting a fix in on the trial? _

_Execution!?_

_Me a supervillain? _

_The trial's barely begun and I'm not to get a fair one??_

_Is this how the so-called "justice system" really works?_

_Is _this_ what I've been fighting the _"good fight"_ for all these years??_

_Execution?!?_

_But why? I'm not evil__…__, _then Electronique's "good" face flashed briefly, _or am I? Aren't I complicit in the morally wrong "readjustment" of her mind? Is the real personality still raging behind Véronique's smiles?_

_That I let it stand is sick and wrong. Wrong-sick. _

_On top of all that there is the matter of my glow's color. _

_Add it all together__…_

…_and it means… _

…_it means…_

"I'm evil," the fallen hero finally spoke, barely a whisper.

With a half grin Senior leaned in closer from where he sat across the table from her, "I assure you my dear, we all are evil to one extent or another. That is the nature of the beast within the breast of the human animal. To keep it corralled is an act of evil in and of itself. Besides, everyone needs a hobby."

"…what am I to _become_…?" Kim was still lost in her own thoughts.

"Please Kimberly Ann," the man looked at his watch, "Time is of the essence. We have little left if things are to proceed smoothly."

With that the redhead looked up, her face set in what Ron called her "mission mode", "How many of us are to break out?"

"Just you my dear."

"Why me Señor?" she asked suspiciously.

"I am sure you have heard the cliché of one being easier than many," at Kim's nod he continued, "Clichés are clichés for a good reason, they are generally founded in truth." A sweeping gesture taking in the yard occupants, "And among all present, it is you Kimberly Ann that has the most chance of success."

"What's in it for you?" the former hero, for that is how she now thought of herself, asked.

_Time for the other shoe to drop._

"I merely wish to extract from you a promise that you will return to break my son and I, as well as any others you might be able to, out of this place."

_Ker-plunk!_

"Let me get this straight," Kim said, "You're advocating my acceptance of villainy as a new career choice, and you're willing to accept my word?"

"As a successful businessman I pride myself on reading people my dear, and I suspect that you will be one of those criminals who nonetheless will stand by their word, much like myself," he straightened his elderly body as best he could, and the teenager could see the wince of pain such a motion caused him. "Just because we are evil is no reason why we can't be civil, now is it?

"Besides, even if you were to welsh on your promise, the simple fact of you being at large will divert resources normally brought to bear upon ourselves. That too would be a positive outcome."

He leaned in close enough for her to catch a whiff of his cologne, reminiscent of a new car with Corinthian leather upholstery, "However I suspect you will uphold your end of the bargain."

Kim thought about it for what felt like exactly four and a half minutes but was much less since memories go faster in the mind. Mentally the joke of a conversation between the Global Justice agents replayed in her head until it reached the punchline: _"Execution."_

"I have a two caveats to this arrangement," Kim stated.

The Spaniard nodded over her shoulder at Junior, who turned and slipped among the milling inmates. That she had conditions spoke of the deal being sealed. "And what are they?"

"First, anyone that I spring from here, aside from you and Junior, will owe me one favor which I shall collect at some unspecified time in the future. No expiration dates."

"A negotiation. My but you are already a shrewd business person," the businessman rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "A blank check like that will be a hard sell to the rest."

The teen held up a finger, "One favor, and one favor only, from e_ach person_. I promise it will be reasonable, no asking anyone to kill themselves or loved ones, no asking for them to hand over the reins of their organizations or empires, now or to come," she detailed. "It might be to allow me to walk out with a prize even though they got there first, or maybe just a hot meal."

Senior grinned, "I'm sure I can convince all parties of that."

Another finger, "Second, I want a copy of that video."

"I expected you would," He gave her a knowing smile, dipping a hand into his breast pocket he retrieved a memory card compatible with his son's player and pressed it into her open hand.

Kim curled her fist closed, feeling the corners of the postage stamp sized chip dig into her palm before depositing it into her own pocket. She nodded once curtly, "Then it's a deal. You have my word Señor Senior Sr."

Even as she uttered the word "deal" someone reached from behind her and grabbed her left wrist. Looking up she saw it was Véronique again.

"Hold still," the European woman said as she extended her pinkie finger and drew the edge of a long file-sharpened fingernail along the pulse point on Kim's wrist. "Ouch!" the teen hissed but kept her arm completely still as the former villain used the long nail to dig just under the skin and extracted what looked like a tiny diamond chip no bigger than might be found on engagement rings to enhance the main stone.

She held it out for Kim to inspect briefly, "A resonance stone, set to respond to a specific harmonic signal even from orbit."

The redhead narrowed her eyes, "Wade. So that's how he chipped us, and all this time I thought it was just the Kimmunicator he tracked."

"I'm sure he did that as well, this is no more than an emergency backup," she smiled again. Taking a wad of gum from her mouth she folded in the crystal chip, then leaned in close to the teenager to press the wad behind her left ear.

At Kim's questioning look she stated, "A smart girl like you will know when and how best to… dispose… of it." She handed her a band-aid and moved off even as another woman that Kim recognized stepped up to the table.

"Betty Boom! Are the Chicas here to testify against me too?" Betoney Baum was head of the Chica Booms, a Latina gang, all masters of various methods of demolitions and things that go "boom". There was an unknown number of Chicas but usually only seen operating in groups of three or four at a time. The former hero had so far encountered a total of seven.

The slender woman, her normally well maintained short hair showing the strains of prison life, forced a smile as she placed a dozen small glassy orbs of different colors the size of shooter marbles in front of her, "Eef it wasn't for 'Papi's' money," she indicated the older Spaniard with a nod, "I'd not be helping the likes of jou, and cer-taint-ly not by giving away _mi numero uno_ aces-in-the-hole in thees place."

"How did you manage to smuggle bombs inside?" the teen asked as she applied the bandage to her wrist.

"Let's jes say jou need a lotta laxatives in order to "pass" them throo secur-hity checks."

"Eww, too much information," Kim shuddered even as she scooped the marbles into her right waist pocket. "Which does what?"

"The greys are smoke bombs; whites are flash-bangs; blacks… tear gas, close jour eyes and hold jour breath for ninety seconds or geet ten feet away; puke greens… stinkers; orange… acid capable of melting a manhole cover in under a minute; yellows… stickies… _stick_-y not _stink_-y," she emphasized, "blues… knock-outs that will put down Schwarzenegger for five minutes; reds… explosives capable of flippin' a flippin' Miata on its back… ."

While Kim concentrated on memorizing what Betoney was saying, Camille Leon had wandered up and without a word to her studied Kim's face intently. By the time the Latina was finished, Camille turned and nodded to Senior, "Got it, not much has changed in the past six months."

She too evaporated among the milling prisoners, although as she was the only prisoner to be wearing a vivid yellow jumpsuit, probably to better single her out because of her shape-shifting abilities, Kim was able to see glimpses of her longer than the rest.

The gentlemanly villain brought her back to the moment, "I believe you are acquainted with the Majorette of the Jeerleaders. I'm sorry I don't know your name my dear," he dipped his head toward yet another young woman approaching the table, a brunette with an olivine complexion.

"We've met," she eyed the former hero with distaste, "Kim."

"Courtney," Kim returned the emotion equally. The Jeerleaders were a Canadian group of cheerleaders turned mercenaries that for the right price would do anything from robbing banks to assassinations, all with the style, finesse, and uniforms of cheerleaders. As a cheerleader herself, Kim hated how they tarnished the image and had considered them natural enemies. _But that was before. _

_Right?_

Without taking her eyes off the teen, Courtney called over her shoulder sharply, "Captain! Lieutenant!"

Up behind her two more Jeerleaders stepped smartly, a scowling brunette and a wild-eyed redhead whose tresses were more carroty in hue than Kim's own scarlet. "Majorette?" the brunette responded in the semi-military bearing the group adopted. The expression on this one was pure disdain that she gave everyone about her equally, but from past encounters Kim knew that she most coveted Courtney's position. _She and Bonnie must have gone to the same bitch prep school._

"Position the squads Heather. The word is given, Fourth horn."

"Aye, Majorette," she grinned predatorily in expectation. Kim knew from their past run-ins that while Courtney was the leader, as the strategist it was Heather who called the shots during "maneuvers". She too disappeared among the ever milling sea of Correctional Orange that the teenager was just now realizing was also as organized as everything else the Señor was choreographing.

"Izzy," the majorette prompted.

With a giggle loaded with self-amusement, the carrot-top plopped a mass of… stuff… on the table. "Rub your hands thoroughly with this as if washing them," she explained in a fast paced voice punctuated throughout with her giggle, making her sound borderline insane, "and for about five minutes they will be sticky enough for you to climb up a marble wall like a fly… I made it from parts of last night's dinner and soap and some pitch seeping from the lumber the yard outhouses are…"

Kim held up a hand to cut her off, "_Don't_ tell me." When she saw Izzy's face fall slightly she added while slipping the gooey mystery mass into her other waist pocket, "Its better I don't know the recipe in case I get captured. Don't want it falling into the CO's hands."

It was a lame lie Kim knew, but the wild eyed girl brightened and nodded knowingly, "Right! Good thinking!"

Off in the distance a train's horn sounded and the head Jeerleader turned to Izzy, "Join the others Lieutenant. Tell them three horns and counting." As the other redhead dashed off with a giggling "Whoo hoo!" the leader turned back to Kim.

"North wall BB center court, Possible. Basket through two Cradle Pop Retakes. I know you know the routines. Dismount from there is your problem, but I'm sure you'll spot the target," Courtney detailed. "This gag'll require precise split-seconding, so don't be off by even a hair."

Kim waved her hand dismissively, "Pfft, please, so not the drama."

"No Possible, total drama," the Jeer majorette stared at her sternly. "You just be sure you're spot, and stick it." With a sharp about-face she too melted into the crowd.

Kim turned back to the mastermind of the coming escape and whistled in amazement, "You seem to have things well thought out and coordinated. I'm surprised you managed it in such a short time. You've only been here what, a little over a day?"

The man smiled, "Oh, this is not as impromptu as you might think. I have been putting this plan together since Wednesday, when it was obvious that you would find yourself in this fallen condition."

That raised her eyebrows, "But none of you were in the same prison! How… ."

Señor Senior checked his watch and stood up, balancing himself on his cane. "My dear, inmates are allowed access to the Internet. From there it is mere child's play to access the InTerrorNet so long as you have the right passwords."

"So, is there anyone else who has to give me something?" Kim stood as well.

As the train horn sounded again, much closer this time, the man smiled broadly, "As a matter of fact, there is one more."

A hand clasped Kim's shoulder from behind. She was spun brusquely about and slugged in the face.

The power behind the punch lifted Kim, sending her flying back over and clearing the picnic table.

Suddenly finding herself on the ground, the former teen hero propped herself on elbows in order to look up and see an angry medium set woman she had never seen before but who looked very familiar, standing over her with both fists clenched.

"What was that for?!" the redhead yelled, rubbing at her mouth.

"That was for killing my brother!" the woman railed.

"Eddie Arcadian was your brother," Kim said, "I can see the resemblance now. And you are?"

"Edie Arcadian."

"Of course you are."

"Get up you goody-two-shoes bitch, so I can knock you back down."

Still on her back, Kim started to laugh. Then she threw her head back and guffawed out loud. It was probably the first real good laugh she had in the past week. It was hardy and heartfelt, releasing all of her pent up stress with a nearly hysterical edge.

By the time Kim pulled herself back together they were the center of attention from all in the yard as well as some on the walls. A calm quiet stillness pervaded the area as the drama laden confrontation unfolded in their midst.

Slightly puzzled, Edie growled as a circle of orange formed about them, "Just what's so funny?"

Kim finally quelled the last of her chuckles then eyed her steadily, "You are. See, you're a little late cause you _just missed_ the goody-two-shoes bitch. She's no longer here."

Anger creased the other woman's brow, "Oh no? And just who am I looking at then?"

"Me?" Kim answered with a thin smile, "I'm just the evil bitch who's going to knock you on your ass and beat it silly!"

The teen used her arms to launch herself feet first low along the ground the brief distance seperating them, catching Arcadian's sister on one knee with both heels. There was a sickening crunch and she collapsed amid curses and the two bowled into the wall of prisoners arrayed just behind Edie.

They disappeared under first those who tumbled atop them then as even more eagerly dove onto the dog-pile, each crying for Kim Possible's blood.

* * *

I got to missing Eddie… LOL

Okay as promised this starts the strictly-me chapters. I've peppered it with a few Easter Eggs, a Go-Prize (get it??) to the first to list them. There are 3 obvious ones and 1 more-than obscure reference to(hint!) Star Trek. Extra credit for which RL prison this is this based on, and a Go-Go(doubled Go-Prize) for whoever can find the StD background character for Betoney "Betty Boom" Baum. I'll accept either a screen cap link or a detailed description.

This time around the Go-Prize is an advance peek at Chapter 5, so there is a time limit. All guesses have to be in by 11:59 PM EST Monday(that's the last minute Monday is Monday) and you must be willing to accept an email with an attachment.

Post your answers in reviews.

Oh, and all reviews get a response!

LR


	5. Dead nor Alive

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter 5 – _Dead nor Alive_

The entire yard erupted into an uproar.

Noise, motion, and curses swept the sea of jumpered prisoners faster than a lit match dropped into a gas-soaked pile of rags, and at the focus of the conflagration was a young girl with scarlet red hair seemingly fighting for her life, her orange outfit grimier than the others.

The lithe teen blocked, evaded, and dodged out of the reach of the angry mob's clutches as if performing a finely choreographed dance routine. She slipped to the sides, ducked under their reach, and at times rolled across the backs of scowling men and women seeking to lay hands upon her. Occasionally she would land a kick to a chest here, a fist to a chin there, and plenty of leg sweeps to take them off theirs.

So intent was she on her evasive actions that there was none of the usual witty banter the redhead was known for.

Above the yelling and shouting and other chaos of the ruckus, alarms rang throughout the prison alerting all personnel to the commotion going down. Correctional officers ran to their riot stations. In the towers the operators on the mounted guns facing outward remained prepared for anything that could be perceived as a run at the outside walls. Already on heightened alert as one of the afternoon express trains that pass the facility less than fifty yards away several times a day was blowing its required Close Approach horn. Meanwhile the inward mounts swung to cover the melee, equally prepared for an attempt at the barriers from the inside, but the operators held their fire according to orders and standing protocol.

Those guns were only for lethal response.

For the less drastic solution the walls were soon swarming with double the number of CO's, the weapons of half of which were loaded with "bean shot", shotgun like shells that fired small beanbags capable of delivering a force only a little less than the kick of a mule. They took aim and proceeded to let loose into the heart of the unruly crowd of inmates. Orange suited forms began to drop, hurt or unconscious. Some of the more sadistic and enthusiastic officers would take aim at the fallen who were merely stunned, making sure with multiple hits that they were down for the count. As the prisoners recognized this new development, the level of frenzy rose as many of them not directly involved with the riot began to scurry for cover.

The lead guard, known among the local inmates for the amount of "satisfaction" he derived from doing his job, shouldered his rifle with an expression equal parts grin and sneer. His weapon was real and not one of the riot suppression "toys" as he thought of them. Taking careful aim he began to target his "favorite" prisoners. Living up to his nickname, Chief "Crackshot" Hatchet fired deliberate single shots. With every crack of his gun another prisoner dropped clutching a shoulder or leg, seriously wounded.

Then red hair flashed across his sights and he grinned even wider. He knew from his various sources that there were more than a few prices on that particular head. The first time he had heard the "Dead _nor_ Alive" request he had laughed heartily until tears flowed at the twist on the usual saying. With one squeeze of the trigger he would no longer need his job nor its poor pension in order to live well into old age.

Not that he would ever quit. Too much fun to be had here!

Shifting his aim, the burley black man tracked the scarlet covered head. It was a challenge to keep up with the constant dip and weaving it was doing but in short order he had recognized a pattern to her moves. They came in combinations that he was able to get ahead of most of the time. With the distance between him and his target it was vital to be able to lead it, to shoot at empty space so that by the time the bullet arrived there so too did the victim.

Which also worked as an alibi… _I wasn't aiming for her, she stepped into it. Guess she shouldn't have started the riot, huh?_

Finally one of the longer of her combinations began. Timing carefully, Crackshot fixed his scope on the proper spot and lovingly caressed his finger on the trigger. The rifle kicked his shoulder reassuringly. Sure enough, the scarlet-tressed head moved into view.

Suddenly she turned, almost as if she could see him back through the scope, the crosshairs almost perfectly centered on the bridge of her nose. He had a chance to appreciate how lovely her emerald eyes were just before the projectile arrived.

Soundlessly the head blossomed with more red than hair could account for…… .

……_KIM‼!_

Monique shouted suddenly, dropping her armload of new blouses and startling everyone in Club Banana.

Those closest to her moved away, concerned mothers yanking none too gently on the arms of their children. The patrons further away stared at her, frozen like deer scenting the wind for danger.

The lovely dark-skinned assistant manager gave none of them a moment's thought. Her forehead was bathed in sweat, her heart and pulse pounding rapidly. She made none of her usual attempts to cover the awkward hesitation she always had whenever she received a vision in public. It was as if no one else in the store existed.

"Kim," she whispered frantically as she ran for the phone behind the cash-wrap, "HOGF, I'm OMW!" _Hang on girlfriend, I'm on my way._

So rattled was she, Monique had to restart three times before the line was ringing. As it was picked up, the computer screen of the register terminal flickered. On it was…, "Wade! Wade listen, Kim is in trouble!" Upon hearing the name of the now infamous teen hero, the closer shoppers tried to listen in while pretending to be perusing the racks. The clerk didn't care.

"What's up Monique?" came the computer genius' voice over the phone since the terminal did not have a proper speaker.

Keeping the receiver to her ear the girl took a step forward and looked up at one particular security camera. "Kim is about to be shot and killed during a riot at the prison!"

"What? How do you know this?"

"Don't ask Wade, please! Just trust me on this, Okay?"

Partially because Wade still had a minor crush on her, but mainly for having confronted a lot of strange things since meeting Kim, the boy suspended his belief and simply leaned on his desk, bringing his face closer to the web cam. "Saying it's true, what do we know?"

"It's going to happen during a riot in the exercise yard," she breathed rapidly, almost hyperventilating.

The final clincher for the fourteen year old boy was that Monique was looking directly into the security camera he had co-opted, her gaze as steady as if she could see him in return. _How could she know that I'm using a camera, much less which one? _Around last Valentine's Day when Wade had first met in person and fell for the store clerk, for a brief time he had spied on her during his free time. Tapping into Club Banana's system he watched her for hours on end, switching cameras as she moved about. He even used a facial recognition program to basically follow her all around Middleton.

It only lasted a couple of days until his mother walked in, saw what he was up to and put an end to it, followed by a long talk about crushes, birds, bees, stalking and sexual harassment.

The thing was, just before his mom caught him, several times Monique seemed to look right at him through the cameras and give a sly knowing smile. Just like she was doing now.

Only minus the smile.

"Accessing Lemon County's inmate activities schedule," the black boy danced his fingers across his keyboard. "The morning exercise period is almost over, but Kim isn't scheduled until the afternoon session. It starts at 1:30 after second lunch."

"Second lunch? What is she, in school?" she checked her watch. 12:17, _less than an hour and a quarter!_

"You'd be surprised how similar schools and prisons work. They share many of the same protocols."

"I need to get out there Wade." the teen was nearly desperate.

"The bad news is since all the bad publicity began many of Kim's favors sort of dried up," the boy stated.

"Please tell me there's good news!"

"There's always Kim's car. I'll call Ron to get it and pick you up."

"P&TY!" _Please and thank you,_ "You're a life saver Wade! Hopefully it'll be Kim's life. Tell Ron I'll be at the west mall entrance." Monique was already two steps towards the back room before registering that she still had the handset in her hands. She dropped it, not bothering to take the time to replace it in its cradle, allowing the cord to pull it back with a bang against the wall..

The young fashion design student raced for her locker. Flinging it open she dug out her only set of KimStyle gear of black turtleneck top, baggy cargo pants, gloves, shoes and belt complete with utility pouches. _Saving your world, KimStyle! _Feeling every minute as it ticked away, the girl shucked herself free of her sales clothes in order to pull on the fashion statement her friend unintentionally made popular three years prior. It was a shame that the eventual decline in the KimStyle fad prompted the chain to drop not only the brand line, but the original separates as well.

_Good thing I kept mine!_ Monique double checked herself in the locker room's full sized mirror. Deciding to lose her fashionable hoop earrings she replaced them with studs and raced away not even bothering to close the locker.

As she made her mad dash across the sales floor the assistant manager declared the lead sales girl to be in charge just before exiting through the front entry, leaving the indicated employee blinking in bewilderment.

The mall itself was glutted with a crowd typical for a noontime Saturday, especially one as hot as it was outside. Monique cared not. She dove into the mass of shoppers at full tilt, racing around, behind and barely in front of couples and families. However her foot hit a patch of spilt soda which sent her skidding wildly to crash into a loaded stroller, spilling both her and baby hard onto the terrazzo flooring……

……raced around, behind and barely in front of couples and families. However she spotted a patch of spilt soda and cleared it and a loaded stroller with her best hurdle jump. The woman pushing it gasped in astonishment at the near miss and stared as the teenager slipped rapidly from view.

Realizing she could not make a particular turn without losing her footing, Monique reached out a hand to snag the upright of a freestanding sales cart to act as an anchor and facilitate her making it. Being already top heavy with merchandise, her weight and inertia caused it to tip. She tumbled as it toppled to land on top of her, crying out as she felt two of her ribs break……

……not make a particular turn without losing her footing, Monique actually tried to collide and rebound off a large heavy set man, only he turned away from her at the last moment and the sun umbrella tucked under his arm drove itself deep into her chest……

……not make a particular turn without losing her footing, Monique angled instead for a support column, using her hands to cushion the impact and push herself on her way.

Soon enough she was exiting the mall's west entrance just as Kim's souped up Sloth pulled to the curb with Ron behind the wheel, outfitted in his own "KimForHim" mission wear. Reaching over he popped the door open for her. "Monique! What's up?"

The black girl slid into the passenger side. As Rufus clambered across the headrest to grab the seatbelt and scamper around, locking the buckle in place for her, she yelled, "We only have about fifty minutes to make it to Lemon County and the prison!"

Putting the car in gear the blond made for the parking lot exit as Rufus settled into one of the cupholders in the middle console. He said, "Yeah, Wade said something about Kim's going to be shot?"

"And killed, Ron. Don't forget the 'and killed' part."

Once the car was free of the mall it was only a few turns until they were on the highway and Ron stepped on the pedal. "You know she's been shot at more times than I can count," he said once he completed the maneuvers. While not his first time behind a wheel, he was nonetheless used to his girlfriend doing all the driving. After all she was so much better at it than him.

She was better at everything.

"She's escaped all sorts of death traps, even hindered with having to save my bumbling ass, so what makes you think this time will be any different?"

Monique looked at him, not for the first time getting a glimpse under his clown act. _He's worried that all of this is somehow his fault! _"First off Ron, you were _never_ a hindrance to Kim, even with you always losing your pants. Or like, tripping her up somehow."

"Way to make me feel better Monique." he added glumly while pulling around a semi to accelerate.

"Sorry Ronster." She added, "But you know that Kim never once thought of _not_ having you at her side. No matter what, she was confident of having you at her back."

"And second?"

"What?"

He pulled back into the fast lane before sparing a glance at her, "You said 'first off' and that usually means there's at least a 'second thing'."

"Yeah, right," the girl swallowed, nervous now that the moment she always dreaded was here. Time to let slip the family's best well kept secret. "I saw it happen."

"What?!" he stared at her in horror, Rufus squeaked in alarm as well, "But I thought we were going to try and _save_ her!" A blaring horn snapped his attention back to the road enough to correct their drift into the next lane.

"We are! I did see it happen," she hesitated before saying meekly, "It just hasn't happened yet."

"What are you saying woman? That you can see the future?"

"Something like that."

"'Something like'?"

"Okay! _Exactly_ like that!" she admitted.

"Hold it! You can see the _future_, and you're just _now_ telling me?" Ron accused. "Does Kim know about this??"

"No. No she doesn't," Monique stumbled over the words. "I've never told anyone outside my family, and not even all of them know. Just my mom, grandma, and cousin Raven." She decided to not mention another of her cousins. Bubbles was the family's black sheep and hardly mentioned.

"Raven, that the one in San Fran?"

"The same. In fact, you're the first soul outside the fam to know."

"They share this ability?" Past the initial surprise, Ron was dealing now, his attention back to driving without getting them killed.

"Rae can but not our moms. Grandma Viv says that the Sight usually skips a generation."

"What a sweet gift!"

'Schweet!' the mole rat added.

"More like a curse than a gift."

"Uh-oh," Rufus amended.

"As if!" the blond enthused. "It has to be great to see the future! You can see when pop quizzes are coming and study for them. Study? You can see the answers! You can win the lottery, know what the surprise is in your Smacker Jacks!" His eyes were shining as he spared her a more intense gaze, "You'd know every Bueno Nacho promotional deal‼"

"You'd think!" she held up her hands to slow him down, "It doesn't work like that! Well, not for me anyway. Though I have gotten some advance insights on certain sales and fashion trends that were rather sweet."

"That's all I'm saying!"

'Uh-huh uh-huh," Rufus chimed.

"No Ron!" Monique shouted irritably, which had the desired effect of slowing the boy down. "You have no idea what it's really like! Oh sure, to someone who isn't a seer it sounds all kinds of kewl and perhaps to someone which any degree of accuracy maybe it is… .

"Still, my Sights don't work like that."

Weaving around another slower moving vehicle Ron remarked, "Did I just hear plural?"

The caramel-skinned girl sighed, resting her head in a hand. With all his usual clowning, it was easy to overlook how discerning he could be when he focused. "Yes plural. I consider my Sights different enough to be two types."

"Start with the one where Kim dies."

"Sometimes I get these unbidden visions of an event about to occur, usually within a few hours but sometimes as far ahead as a week. The problem with them is I only get a couple of minutes worth of vision, I have no idea when they'll come, and it's whether or not I want them. But they always come true exactly as I see them, if not as I interpreted them."

"You lost me with that last part," Ron admitted, blowing the horn hard and swerving the Sloth into the next lane.

"It's like this. Say you pick up a book. You flip it open somewhere in the middle and read a couple of paragraphs," she explained. "Now based upon just that, you try to build a picture as to what the entire book is about. What brought that passage to be? Where will the action lead next? You'll not be very accurate since what you read has no context before or after. You only know _that_ part."

"Okay, I can see that."

"So in my visions I'll see something and not have the full story. I have only what I can see and hear from that snippet but little else. Not even the when, though sometimes I can gauge how far off they are by the size of the headache I get."

"And they always come true?" Ron growled grimly.

"Well, yes. Since I don't try to change anything they come to pass exactly as I see them."

"What if it's something bad?" Ron exclaimed. _Like Kim getting shot!_

"Raven tries to prevent the bad things she sees, generally ending up in more trouble than the final effort is worth, and the vision comes about anyway. Only then she finds out she mis-read the event for some missing information. Things happen as she _sees_ them, just not as she _thinks_ its about.

"She says that so far she's only managed to change things a couple of times, but with all the fallout she gets herself into she wonders if she should have bothered. I learn by her mistakes and try to ignore them. So far I've been able to pretty much ignore mine."

"But not this time."

"I saw her _die_ Ron! That's a _big_, not like preventing her brothers from posting her facial-face on the high school website…."

"Wait, you knew about that and could have prevented it?"

"It was really no big," Monique shrugged, "I mean, sure she almost died of embarrassment, but she didn't _die_ die, you know?"

"Well there was that one time she nearly did die-die of embarrassment, but I guess I can see your point." Ron gripped the wheel, "Your cousin says she's only prevented a couple of visions from coming true? Doesn't sound like good odds."

"Maybe not, but under the heading of 'good news'," she added hopefully, "those visions were about bigs. Not sitting on gum big, but life and limb big."

"So you're hoping."

"So I'm hoping."

There was a few moments silence in the car as Ron sped up even more. He weaved in and about the traffic, changing lanes as needed. Even Rufus seemed unusually subdued. Finally, "And the other type?"

"A much more precise type of sight, with greater control as to the outcome." she supplied, "Whenever I chose to I can see about three minutes ahead and make different choices based upon what I see."

"Meaning you can like, avoid eating a bad naco?" He looked at his pet, "Not that there is such a thing, right buddy?"

Rufus nodded and held up a paw, "Rite!"

"Boy, you are obsessed."

"I thought you knew by now not to knock the perfect food, Mo'," he chided.

"Yeh!" the mole-rat piped.

The girl dropped her face in a hand, "That would be a trivial use of the sight, but yeah, stuff like that. In fact I just used it several times to run through the crowded mall at top speed."

"Now that is sweet!" the car veered sharply as Ron cut across a lane between two semis with just enough room to clear and jammed the accelerator. "That practically qualifies as a super power!"

"I suppose," she agreed, "But I don't use it much either."

"But you can use it to save Kim?"

The fashion student sighed, "I don't know Ron, I certainly hope so! I can see what's next anytime I want, but there are limitations."

"Like…?" he braked hard, steering onto the shoulder to avoid tail-boning the car ahead of him and going around.

"Easy! If we get killed Kim _is_ done for!" she was gripping the hang-strap for dear life.

"Point taken, but time is running out. Okay, so limitations?"

"Right. First I can only see three minutes into my own personal future, centered solely on me, and second… it can get very eerie very fast."

"How so?"

"Like seeing your own death too many times eerie," she sighed. "Say for example you're running late for school so you want to know how best to time running across streets without getting hit by traffic… ."

Ron stared at her in horror, "Oh no!"

"Right, you'll have to experience getting hit by a lot of cars, and the aftermaths, in order to find the right pace, faster… slower… to make it across clean," she hugged herself.

"Oh my god Monique!"

"There are prices to be paid for anything. Like phantom pains that linger from the other events, only worse because it's not just pain from a missing limb, its from an entire alternate future!

"After a while you don't want to know what's about to happen," she stared at the space in front of her. "Grandma Viv says that the problem with looking at the future is that the future changes because you looked at it. Therefore you want to look again to see what else changes, which will change _again_ because you looked _again,_" she shivered.

Hitting the brakes to match pace with another spacing between vehicles, two SUVs this time, Ron jerked the car over amid blaring horns and across to the far lane. "That's horrible!"

"It's why I don't like to fight or do much in the way of sports. The temptation to look is just so strong! It's also the reason why my mom got a job in Middleton, to get me away from fast paced cities where the danger of day to day life makes you want to _know_, you know?"

"And it's been like this your entire life?"

"I've had the Sight since puberty. But the unwanted visions, those were very rare until three years ago."

"Why, what happened then?"

The dark skinned girl looked at him, "Your mom got a job in Norway."

That earned her a hard look, "No she didn't. What are you talking about? Was that a vision?"

"No Ron," she said very quietly, "No vision. It really happened. It was the start of the school year and your mom got a job overseas, sold the house, and you and your fam moved."

"Moni… ."

"Ron! Just listen, Okay? Let me tell this!"

The boy simply nodded. He knew that tone from women.

"You and Kim still tried to make things work. Wade got you both rides to missions, but you would arrive just after the excitement ended. One time Kim even drafted and dragged me along because three villains joined forces. Dr Drakken, the Monkey Man and that Crazy Golfer Dude."

"Monkey Fist and Duff Killigan." Ron supplied.

"Yeah, right. They got ahold of some evil statue called the _Tempus Simia_," At Ron's blank stare she added, "That's Latin, Study Boy,"

"Oh! Yeah… I dropped Latin when I found out it had nothing to do with salsa… the dance or the food."

"It means 'Time Monkey'."

"Monkeys! No wonder it's evil! Explains Monkey Fist's involvement though, probably his idea."

"Munky, bleh!" from Rufus.

"Ron!"

"I'm just saying, but go ahead."

Monique closed her eyes to rally her strength as well as to help her concentrate. "They got the Time Monkey and used it to alter time. You and Kim disappeared for twenty years, during which Shego took over the world."

"Shego!?"

"Green gal, fires plasma from her hands?"

"That would be her," he confirmed.

"A resistance was formed by Wade and the Tweebs…"

"Kim's brothers?"

"You know, this is going to take longer than the ride to Lemon, you keep interrupting me."

"Sorry, zipping now."

"Anyway, for twenty long years we fought against Shego's regime. Even with ACME Labs, where Rufus was born, providing us with three thousand enhanced and hyper-evolved clones of him we gained no ground until you guys showed up not a day older than when you went missing." Monique pointed a stern finger at the blond driver when he started to say something, prompting him to remain quiet. "Of course, in no time Kim got to the heart of matters, and you… you Ron… smashed the idol and suddenly everything was back to the beginning of school, three years ago," she summed up.

Seeing that Ron was squirming, "Okay, you got questions, shoot."

"I don't remember any of that, and I'm sure Kim doesn't either!" Ron blurted.

"Time was returned to normal. It never happened as far as anyone is concerned."

"Except you remember."

"All twenty miserable years," she nodded. "It's a good night's sleep when I don't have nightmares about it."

"Why?" he asked, "That you remember, not y'know, the sleep and nightmares cause that part I can understand."

"If I had to guess? Because of how my brain and psyche are wired. I'm already used to seeing the future, alternate outcomes to sitches, and can even change my present actions accordingly. What's a couple dozen years worth of memory?

"Thing is, ever since that sitch in time the unwanted visions have gotten more frequent. Also my next-sight has increased because it only used to be two minutes ahead, but I still try not to use it too much," she shivered again. "About thirty minutes ago I experienced broken ribs and getting run through the gut. If I ever see _that_ guy again I plan to give him a piece of my mind about the proper way to carry an umbrella!"

"Sounds peachy," Ron mumbled, overwhelmed with all that his friend just revealed. For five minutes an uneasy silence drifted between them like a damp fog as Monique hugged herself and Ron steered about traffic.

"So we're going to try to save Kim," he stated.

"So we're going to try and save Kim," she confirmed.

"I'm all about the saving Kim," he said not as lightly as he usually spoke the phrase.

The pair fell into silence for the remainder of the journey, Ron pushing the car as fast as he felt his skills capable of keeping it on the road, all the while thinking how he would not be able to live with himself if he were to lose his dearest friend since Pre-K.

Monique desperately wished for the first time in her life for the ability to control the far-sight. Once she reached a hand over and tugged at the steering wheel, sending them onto the narrow shoulder, battling the difference of one set of wheels being on grass, before putting them back onto the road proper.

After she released it, the blond looked at her wordlessly for long seconds, swallowing hard as the implications of what his friend had just done sunk in. _Were we just in an accident? Were we seriously injured or… or… or… ._

Ron decided he did not want to think about any of the 'ors'. Not if Monique was not going to elaborate on her own. He slowed the pace a fraction, resolving to get them both to the prison safely.

And save his girlfriend's life.

* * *

I'm taking a moment to spotlight Monique this time around. In this world of a villainous Kim many of her former friends will be called upon to step up and help fill the former hero's void. Emphasis on _help_.

Besides, it looks like Kim needs her help now, right?

I hope you got all the couple of blatant hat-tips in this chapter. This is early because I'm helping a friend move to another state. Next week might be late as well, but I already have it mostly done. }:)

Oh, the Easter Eggs in Chapter 4...

**Shun Leep** is an elvish martial arts from the comic Gold Digger, as is the Murder Fist technique and influence.

"**Save the world one more time... with her execution"** is a paraphrase from Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country. The federation President had said that Kirk would save the galaxy one more time by standing trial.

**Senor Senior Sr's cologne** being reminiscent of New Car with _Corinthian Leather_ is of course a nod to SSS's voice actor Ricardo Montelban's famous commercials.

**The Jeerleaders **seen were modeled on part of the female cast of _Total Drama Island_.

**The Lemon County Prison** is based upon Colorado's Limon County Correctional Facility.

**Betony "Betty Boom" Baum** is modeled on this StD background character, in orange which is the basic Chica Boom uniform :. and ..

See you next time!


	6. Freethrow

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Six – _Freethrow_

The afternoon exercise period had already been in session for fifteen minutes by the time the Sloth pulled up to the Lemon County Prison's visitor gate. Monique, who had had been resting her eyes for the past twenty minutes, opened them and slunk down in her seat so she could not be easily seen. "Uh oh… remember Ron I'm not here!" and with that she popped her seatbelt, opened the door and rolled out, not waiting for him to stop completely. The door swung only partially closed, but enough to latch.

To say the blond youth was unprepared for that was an understatement, but then Ron reflected on how that was was nothing unusual. He pulled up behind a battered red pickup and watched as three uniformed correctional officers carefully inspected it. While one took information and walked back into the booth, another stood at alert attention on the passenger side as a third walked around the vehicle with a mirror on a long handle checking its undercarriage.

"Okay buddy, you know the drill."

"Uh-hh, uh-hh" squeaked the naked rodent as he scampered from his cup-holder seat and into the boy's voluminous pants pocket.

The gate was lifted, allowing the truck to pass. It closed as Ron pulled up and rolled down his window. "Good afternoon your uniformness!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Your identification please and who you're here to see," the CO stated brusquely, tired from the amount of Saturday traffic he had already dealt with. Visitors always tried to be cheerful and full of smiles, some hoping to establish a faux friendship to gain favors, some trying to hide how nervous they were being this close to a penal facility.

Ron dug out his license and handed it to him with a "here's my card my good man" flourish, "Ron Stoppable to see the _ever_ _lovely_ Kim Possible!" It had already been decided that it would be near impossible to try and convince anyone of the truth: that they knew one of the inmates was about to be killed because one of them could see the future. So it was decided that Ron would act as a distraction while Monique would slip away in order to get as close to their friend as possible to warn her.

_Ron Stoppable, professional distraction at your service! _He thought,_ I should have cards printed. Sidekick to Hot Women only._

He just had not expected it to start so soon.

"Say Lieutenant," of course Ron had no idea of the man's true rank, "What's with the mirror? I mean like, there's no girl's skirts to look up…," he swallowed nervously when the man glared at him. "Because, you know… there's none here… girls that is… with me… inside or outside the car… heh heh… ."

"Checking for explosives or contraband, sir," was the reply.

"Ohh… Of course, explosives _or_ contraband! Tell me, is it always either or?" he said lightly, "I mean, if you find both contraband _and_ a bomb, which do you deal with first? Do you get to choose, or is there like a protocol?"

Not very amused the guard handed back the document, "Yeah, the protocol is you get to check in but you don't get to check out! Now follow the blue painted line to parking lot three. Move along sir." He tapped the roof of the car.

Putting the Sloth in gear Ron saw that there was a rainbow of colored lines painted on the ground leading off in many different directions. Following the blue line as ordered he eventually pulled alongside the same battered truck that had preceded him. Loosening his seatbelt he got out and locked the door after ensuring he had the keys in his hand. When he turned around he was face to face with a smiling Monique.

"Ahh!" he jumped back a foot, "Don't _do_ that Mo!"

"Sorry Distraction Boy."

"How did you get past the gate?"

"Simple," the smirking girl explained, "When I got out I ran low behind the car then crawled under the length of it and under the pickup. Mirror Guy was already done looking and I held on as it drove in."

Ron was impressed. "That short range vision power is amazing."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to try not only get inside, but all the way to Kim. Hopefully without getting shot or killed too many times." She said that so casually that Ron almost believed she did it more than she claimed.

Off in the distance the horn of a train sounded. The fashion student's eyes widened with urgency. "Ron! Hear that?"

"Train horn?" he cocked his head, "What about it?"

"I heard it in my vision!"

He grabbed her shoulders, _"What?! _Why didn't you say something about it sooner?"

She shook her head, "I… I usually just ignore my visions! Ride them out and go about my business!" she cried. "There are so many details in them that it's hard to sort it all out. You know, catalog them.

"I'm not used to this, not like Cousin Rae!"

"Well _do something_ woman!" Ron growled purposefully.

"I'll DMB Ron, do my best. I promise. You just be sure to keep Global Justice busy," she nodded over his shoulder.

Ron turned to look where she indicated and was surprised to see a navy colored limo followed by four trucks pull up to the building's front entrance and stop. Even before the vehicles stopped completely armed men wearing the colors of Global Justice began to leap out the back of the trucks.

"GJ! I have a bad feeling about this Moni…," Ron tossed a quick glance over his shoulder but his dark-skinned friend was nowhere to be seen. "Yeah…, what fun would it be if things were to start going our way for once, hey Pal?" he patted the pocket where Rufus laid curled up until he was needed and felt the reassuring movement of his best friend after Kim.

"Time to go to work." Composing himself in the air of clownishness everyone came to expect of him, the teen jogged towards the assembling troops. He got there just as the back doors of the limo opened and out stepped a uniformed woman with one eye and her hair in a close cropped bob.

"Dr Director!" He waved, "Sooo, what brings Gee-Jay here?" he tried to put on a casual face and acknowledged Agent Du who was exiting the car behind her with a non-committal nod.

Which was ignored by the serious faced youth.

"Mr Stoppable!" Dr Elizabeth Director's good eye narrowed in an expression that did not match her easy smile, "The same thing that brings you here I'd hazard, to see Ms Possible.

"Will, see to the deployment," she tossed over her shoulder without taking that suspicious gaze from the blond.

"Yes Sir," the agent moved off without further comment.

Ron pointed towards the assembling soldiers, "Don't tell me they're all here to see my girlfriend too. I don't think the visiting room will handle them all."

Without taking her eye off him she replied, "In a way you can say they are here to see her, only not for social reasons."

"Oh?"

"Mr Stoppable," watching his face intently she stated matter-of-factly, "We've received information that Kim Possible is going to attempt a prison break sometime this weekend."

For almost thirty seconds the blond looked at the Global Justice director as if not only had she grown back her missing eye, but a third one as well. Somewhere in the distance the horn sounded again.

"Ki… Kim?" he stammered, "Break out of jail?? Pardon me Dr D'o'GJ, but have you gone _completely mental?!"_

"Ec-_scuuse_ me?"

"That's right, 'Excuse _you'!"_ Ron was already worried about Kim's surviving past the next hour thanks to Monique's prophetic sight, now the one woman in the world his girlfriend respected the most after her own mother has the nerve to…, "Just who do you think you're talking about? Only the most bon-_diggity_ law-_abiding_ soul on the _planet!"_

So angry was he, Ron advanced on the woman, his finger poised as if to poke her in the chest repeatedly. "Kim would never _ever_ do anything the remotely criminal like!"

The closest Global Justice troopers wheeled about, bringing weapons to bear on the loudly indignant youth violating their superior's personal space. Betty just held up a hand to forestall any rash actions on their part. She understood where he was coming from, even if she herself had long ago grown out of this particular brand of naivety, having learned the need to be aware of The Bigger Picture.

In the brief moment that all the GJ agents had their eyes on Ron, their director had her eye on them, and no one had their eyes on the front entranceway, Monique walked inside from around the corner. Trusting Ron to do his job the caramel skinned girl moved further inside confidently.

The Club Banana assistant manager found herself in an anteroom full of visitors of all ages and slices of life milling about. Some were standing, some sitting. Some reading the bulletin boards, some doing their own things. Even some mothers dealing with kids of various ages. All waiting their turns into the visiting areas.

Only a few bothered to notice Monique as most seemed to not want to acknowledge each other. However it was easy to spot the ones visiting the longest term prisoners as they seemed to be at ease with each other, talking and laughing together in one corner, having gotten to know one another after a long time of running into each other over repeated visits.

For the most part she moved steadily through the waiting area exercising her pre-sight to see three minutes ahead. In this fashioned she _looked_, and _looked_, and _looked_, navigating her way past visitors and very alert guards but capitalizing on key moments when people were looking one way, another, or otherwise momentarily preoccupied.

Which was how Monique moved passed the filled visitor's waiting room and into areas more restricted, moving deeper into the facility with none seemingly the wiser.

Until the alarms went off.

Outside Dr Director was coolly but persistently calming the teenage sidekick, getting him to open the space between them and consequently putting her armed underlings more at ease at the time the riot klaxons went off.

Immediately ignoring Ron, The leader of Global Justice straightened her back and turned, giving Agent Du rapid hand signals to relate her orders without having to raise her voice over the noise. The swarthy man nodded before relating his own hand instructions to the assembled men. Like well oiled cogs in a single machine they broke into smaller squads and set off, some around the outside in each direction, some right through the front doors.

Seeing that Dr Director no longer considered him a part of her immediate world, the flaxen-haired youth swallowed, following her. He wisely remained quiet so as to not bring her attention back to him. After all, he already knew what was going on. A riot had just erupted inside the penitentiary.

The Riot.

_Where Kim is about to be killed! Just as Monique had predicted. _

Her accuracy was at the same time encouraging and not, because if the dark-skinned girl was right about it starting, would she be right about everything she saw? Or would she be able to prevent the final act, as her San Franciscan cousin had done only a handful of times before?

He swallowed again, _Wherever you are Mo', I hope you make it in time!_

Which was exactly the same thought Monique was having. She was nearly frantic, her heart again thumping in her chest as it had done barely an hour prior when the vision had hit her. She tried to remember how many times she had heard the train's call but could not be certain. Once? Twice? More?

She had no idea.

_Dammit! You'd think that with twenty years worth of honing my skills in that other future I'd be better at this! _Except the fact was not only had she spent the past three years actively trying to forget the nightmarish alternate world, but those memories were relegated to a part of her brain that in this timeline she never properly exercised or trained. So those future skills were almost dreamlike to her now. Like any normal memory they were slipping further away from active recall the more time passed.

It was like trying to remember how she performed some elaborate trick a week after a stage hypnotist made her briefly do for laughs. Fortunately she was better practiced with the pre-sight even if she preferred not to use it often.

The chaos around her helped though.

She was overlooked by the armed correctional officers as they rushed past her shouting orders and questions as if she was not even there. Of course that was due to the fact she was constantly _looking_ and therefore knowing exactly how to walk, pause, sidestep, hide her face, or whatever action resulted with her moving unchallenged in reality instead of where she was challenged or arrested or even shot. Twice mortally. She absently rubbed her chest where the phantom wounds still throbbed.

Ron watched as the powerful one-eyed woman asserted her authority with a flash of her badge, which to him seemed redundant considering the GJ uniform was hard to ignore. "Dr Director, head of Global Justice," she barked at the desk Sargent. "Who's in immediate charge here?"

The uniformed man snapped to it. "Ma'am! Warden William Smithers is!"

"Where is he now?"

"Uhm," he checked something behind the counter, "At home but being recalled ma'am."

"Then who's in charge _here?"_ she asked not at all sweetly.

"That would be Crack… Chief Hatchet ma'am!"

"Where is _he?" _

"On the walls ma'am!"

She sighed. Weapons discharge could be heard dimly. From the sounds she knew they were not GJ ordinance and thus had to be the CO's weapons.

Monique heard the gunfire and stepped up her pace. Dropping all attempts to remain unseen, she only reacted to any pre-sights that directly stopped her one way or another and ignored any scenarios where she was simply ordered to stop.

Now in addition to the yard riot there was an intruder alert to divide the officers' attention.

Hearing the change in the alarms, Betty looked upwards and wondered aloud, _"Now _what?"

"That's the breach alert ma'am! Unauthorized personnel have gained interior access!" the CO supplied.

Having already locked down the waiting room and the visitation cells sealed to minimize extraneous movement as her troops moved in to supplement and aid the situation, Betty did the one thing she had been dying to do for the past three minutes.

"By the authority granted me by the United Nations, I and Global Justice are now in charge!" She declared to all and sundry. "Where is Kim Possible at this minute?"

When the guards looked at each other she had a sinking feeling.

"Don't tell me, she's in the middle of the riot," it was a statement more than a question, to which she got synchronized nods. There was no doubt in Betty's mind that the intrepid teenager was in the process of effecting her break at that very moment and the current chaos only the covering distraction. She reached up to tap a behind-the-ear headset. "Director to Du."

"Du here," came the prompt response.

"I believe Possible is making her move, are the troops in position?"

"The outer perimeter is secured as are all entrances and exits. However we have yet to make the towers or walls. We are meeting resistance from the CO's who are on high alert and lockdown mode."

"It's going down now so preempt whomever's in charge, arrest any that fail to comply, and get into position _stat!"_ the woman stressed.

"Will do. _Out."_ Even with the seriousness of the situation Betty had to stifle a snort of laughter. The poor straight-laced agent never did understand why everyone laughed or snorted whenever he said the phrase. None ever deigned to explain to him, instead circulating the rumor he either was born without a sense of humor or he had it surgically removed intentionally.

Taking her own orders, Betty pressed past her own objecting barricade of correctional officers. With a "Lead the way to the commotion" she preceded her own posse of armed Global Justice agents, having no reason to take note of the dimly audible third time the train sounded its horn.

Monique, however was much closer to the inner yard and could hear it better, and more importantly, knew that it combined with the gunshots meant she only had a few minutes left before her best friend caught a bullet facial. "Gang way‼" she cried, speaking for the first time since starting her infiltration, startling those who had not already seen her and those too busy to take full notice.

Shouldering and pushing past the startled and rushing uniformed men, ignoring the calls of "Hey!" and "Halt!", she shrugged off grasping hands and burst through the final doors between her and the exercise yard.

From her vision she already knew what to expect, only the difference between it and real life was glaringly different. When observing there was never a sense of danger, her mind apparently knowing the difference. She was not in the same objective observational position. Visions, like movies, have shifting points of focus but reality is purely subjective and centered solely on her, providing only what her own five senses could give her.

Which is why being suddenly immersed into the actuality of the chaos from the vision was so disorienting. Inmates ran all about yelling with overlapping voices, some falling to the ground clutching their limbs yelling in pain, a few bleeding from live rounds, and dull impacts thudded the dirt about her, Monique fought down her instinctual impulse to _fight or flight!_

She looked about. _There! Red hair!_

Just as the chocolate-colored student had foreseen was her friend's familiar tresses and grimy orange jumpsuit ducking, weaving and bobbing with the fluid grace of a dancer on the far side of the open yet crowded space.

_Girlfriend's gotten some new moves!_

_There! On the Tower! _

The big and burly black officer had his rifle to his shoulder, holding it with loving care while several Global Justice operatives started to pour onto the walls from the towers. He was trying to track the redheaded teen. _"_Kim‼"

Steeling herself the would-be fashion designer, already having used her gifts-cum-curse more today than in her entire life, _gave herself over to it completely._

Launching herself towards her BFF, Monique was hit in the shoulder with bean shot on her very first step……

……dipped under the line of fire and was slammed off her feet when a prisoner collided with her……

……rolled across the man's back but was spun about by a shot that took her in the thigh, temporarily paralyzing it and throwing her to the hard packed dirt……

……rolled under the man who rocked in pain as he took the hit in the small of his back. She sprinted with her best track form, hurdling here, weaving there, ducking, spinning to one side or another of the jumpsuited men and women as she rapidly closed the gap to her objective.

A couple of the shooters on the walls became increasingly more frustrated in how elusive the slip of a girl dressed in neither prisoner, guard, nor even GJ garb was. More and more of them began to concentrate their fire exclusively on her.

Had any been graced to view things from some vantage point outside of time and space, perhaps like the mythical Mount Olympus, they would have been astounded to say the least to have witnessed her being felled a multitude of times to only be reset virtually the same instance in order to avoid the blow or hit or collision. Fortunately for their sanity none present had that dubious perception.

Dr Director burst onto the courtyard followed by squads of both her agents and correctional officers who proceeded to spread out among the madly scrambling and fighting prisoners, swinging clubs and tasers to quell them into submission just as Monique finally hurdled onto, and launch herself from, the backs of a couple of inmates piled unconscious atop each other.

Suspended in the air like that, trapped in the trajectory with little means or training in how to twist out of the way Kim, or even Bonnie or Tara, might have left the girl finally open to the sharpshooters. In rapid succession she took several bean shots along her side and back.

Stunned, the hurtling Monique nonetheless reached her target virtually simultaneously as the chief guard's bullet, even as he was tackled by a Global Justice trooper shouting orders to hold his fire.

Colliding with the redhead she felt the hair behind her neck move as if in a high-speed breeze, the _'whizz!'_ sound lost in the larger noise about them. As the two drove into the dirt a pained cry beyond them rang out briefly, and while Monique took no particular happiness in anyone getting hurt, she was still satisfied she had indeed succeeded in proving it possible to change the outcome of a vision.

_Of course, anything is possible when it concerns a Possible!_

Groggily, an adrenalin rush keeping her going, the black teen raised her head to smile into her friend's face and paused, frowning.

_What's going on here?_

Up close the grimy orange-ness of the prison wear was actually… _tomato sauce?? What the hell?_

"Seems you saved my life there sweetie," said a silky voice that definitely did not belong to Kim. Even as Monique realized the food paste was smeared into a vivid yellow cloth her friend's face underwent a dramatic yet familiar change as millions of nanoscopic botox-bots shifted under the skin. The face elongated from round to oval, the chin sharpened, a mole appearing near the lip. Body thinned and lengthened a few inches, skin tone deepened a few shades, green eyes faded to a startling blue, and hair bleached from scarlet to platinum blonde revealing…

"Camille Leon!"

"The one and only, accept no substitutes," the shapeshifting debutante grinned. "My hero!"

The surprise set the store clerk aback. "Bu… but where is…," she stammered as the train horn sounded from the far side of the penitentiary walls much, much closer than ever.

"Your friend, the annoying Kim Possible?" Camille tossed her head towards the north wall.

Stunned now in mind as well as body, Monique turned to look.

In fact, suddenly all the prisoners stopped their fights, rampaging and whatever as everyone froze, turning to look towards the northern end of the yard. Even the CO's and GJ agents looked where all other eyes seemed to be. Even those on the walls seemed to pause.

For from the far edges of the crowd sprinted a figure in a jumpsuit altered to incorporate a hoodie, compliments of the Fashionista of the same name. In building up speed the hood flopped back revealing hair the color of a firetruck.

"KP!" Ron's voice called out from somewhere even as Monique cried, "Kim!"

Ignoring all, Kim dropped her head in a flat out hundred yard dash. As she approached the basketball court painted at that end of the yard others erupted from the crowd of orange on both sides. She recognized the dark-haired goth and blonde surfer chick of the Jeerleaders, Gwen and Bridgette, racing as if to intercept her at the court's center Restraining Circle, only Kim could see that she was going to get there first.

_Hah! Who's off by that hair Courtney?_

Kim tucked her run into forward backflips as from somewhere while the other Jeers started their own carefully timed runs Heather's voice barked out, "Cap, Lieu! Stick it,_ NOW!"_

With that prompting the two girls leapt the final yards directly at each other. Hands grabbed forearms, their combined momentum spinning them about their common center. The pair landed, now opposite the side they were initially on, their knees bent to both absorb their jumps and be prepared for…

Kim came out of her backflips her butt perfectly seated in the two's arms…

"Izz, Linds, Katie‼" the field commander called again.

Lifting from knees and putting their backs into a powerful classic Basket Toss, the goth and surfer chicks threw the former hero. Kim flew twelve feet up and thirty feet over where three more Jeers were coming together even as she hurtled towards the Freethrow Line. _How appropriately named!_ Kim suppressed a giggle.

"_What are you waiting for? Bring her down‼"_ Director's voice rang out.

The carrot-top, another blonde, and a thin dark-skinned girl pulled their three-person pyramid formation together just in time for the slight-built girl at the peak to cradle her hands for Kim to place her left foot into the Simplified Cradle Pop Retake. With all her might, amplified by the pyramid collapsing backwards, Katie threw Kim over her head blindly but trusting in the direction the fall provided and the redhead's ability to correct if need be.

Startled out of their shock by the one-eyed woman's barked orders, shots again rang out, mostly centered on but missing the former hero's hurtling form, some on the assembling accomplices.

Kim saw the remainder of the Jeerleaders completing their six person pyramid just beyond the court's basket. In the brief glance she was able to put names to them. The black Leshawna between the grim faced Eva and bespectacled Beth, with Courtney and sour-faced Heather on the second tier grimacing as the final member worked to make it to the pinnacle in time. "Hurry it up Blubber-butt!" demanded the Field Captain.

At first Kim was surprised to see who they had selected to take Top Point. Normally used as a Base, the immensely overweight girl seemed the farthest from the ideal appearance for a cheerleader, and seeing her squeezed into the one-piece adapted uniform was far from a pleasant sight no matter how unselfconscious about herself she appeared. However Kim recalled from past experiences that the bubbly and happy-go-lucky Sadie was actually the strongest of anyone she ever met.

While Eva, anchoring the bottom tier, was a weightlifter capable of benching nearly five hundred pounds, the rotund Sadie was capable of _throwing_ that much weight, and a considerable distance at that. So in fact it made sense that they were risking the stability of their formation by letting her do the final Cradle Pop Retake.

The tower guns tried to track the flying teen but they were unable to catch up to such a swiftly moving target, especially on the upwardly mobile trajectory she was taking. However all the bean shooters were concentrating their aim on the base of this final pyramid. Kim could see the three Bases wincing as they withstood hit after hit to Courtney's encouraging words to _"Hold on, hold on!"_

Sadie made it in place just in time to cradle her hands for the last Retake and _THROW_ even as the formation finally gave out under her.

With that immensely powerful final boost Kim Possible, former World Saving Hero, took off like a rocket, flying as if catapulted.

Which in a sense she was.

Drawing her arms back she let fly the two black marbles already in her hands. They impacted the parapets among the CO's and Global Justice men and as promised by the Chica Boom, bilious clouds of tear gas engulfed them with a loud bang.

_Spankin! _Kim elated,_ but something's missing here… Oh, yeah‼_

Ron and Betty Director had made their way to where Monique laid across the blonde shapeshifter. They all watched the escape come together in nearly spectacular flawlessness, like the film of an exploding watch movement in reverse.

All the prisoners still conscious erupted in cheers and applause.

As the flying redheaded teenager cleared the prison walls she let loose with a deliciously crowed:

"Ahh _BOO YAH Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha‼‼"_

* * *

Okay, I'm late this week because of helping with a move out of state, and the lead I used to have on the chapters was used up during the past couple of weeks. Plus I had a little difficulty putting Monique through her paces.

It wasn't easy to depict her pre-sight abilities the way that the movie _Next_ did, but I hope I did a fair job. Also I had to balance her carefully so that even though this is a From Left Field ability of hers, and a nod to the VA's _That's So Raven_ character, I presented in a fashion as to not otherwise be completely OOC for her.

The premise is that first she never used them because unlike Nicholas Cage in _Next_, she suffers from "phantom pains" from the alternate futures and feeling getting hit by a bullet or whatever is not a lot of fun nor conducive to exercising the ability too often.

Second, while she always had the Sights, the _Sitch in Time_… sitch… left her much more sensitive to them and as explained last chapter they were enhanced. However like all memories, the farther SiT future ones have begun to fade…

Despite Monique's heroics this time, it is not my intention to put her on the front line like this too often.

Thanks for reading! Please leave comments and reviews‼ We writers appreciate and look for them. They sort of validate our efforts don't ya know… the more reviews, and the deeper the comments, the better we feel we've done! Share with everyone _exactly_ what you liked or enjoyed…

Besides, I'll answer each one personally!

See you next time!

LR


	7. Checklist

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Seven – _Checklist_

"Ah-boo-ya-ha?" Shego finally asked.

For the past fifteen minutes since snapping out of her fugue state the redhead had related the re-associated memory from two days ago – minus of course what she could not have known about her friends outside of their sudden appearance in the yard just prior to the breakout. _Dr D would shit a blue brick if he knew I not only didn't interrupt her once but actually paid full attention! _

_Well… maybe not exactly _full_ attention…,_ Shego reflected as she continued to massage the teen's feet. Midway through the tale she had encouraged her maybe-former nemesis off the floor and onto the sofa where the teen had kicked off her shoes, placing bare feet in the woman's lap, toes wiggling in the gesture universally understood between females. She could not determine if the teen was flirting or just being… well, _Kimmie._

Flirting or not, having removed her gloves to better work the teen's feet, Shego was appreciating the pleasure of the simple contact. That she was getting some hands-on-skin action going was a bonus, and quite frankly, a turn on. She was trying to hold herself back some.

At that moment one of Drakken's henchwomen entered the lounge, her cowl and mask pulled back like a hood, freeing a wild mane of strawberry-blonde hair. The woman stood in the doorway, a wide-eyed shocked expression on her face as she took in the scene before her.

The Lieutenant. Sitting with _Kim Possible! _The girl's feet in her lap!

_Massaging them!_

With her usual flippancy, the green suited woman grunted, "That's right Thirteen. It's Kim Possible. The boss knows she's here. And yes, I'm rubbing her feet," she shared an amused glance with the teen.

"Got a problem with it?"

A shake of her head, "Uhm, no ma'am!"

"What did you need Thirteen?"

"I wanted to watch _'How I Met Your Other Mother',_" the woman stated.

"Use the lounge on the Guest Level. Tell the others this one's off limits tonight," the lead henchperson instructed.

"Yes ma'am…," the woman backed out, not taking her eyes off the strange and practically unnatural sight until the doors closed.

Matching green eyes met. Neither said a thing for almost thirty seconds, then they erupted in hearty laughter at the other's expense.

"O'm'gawd!" Kim squealed, "Did you see the expression on her face? Priceless!"

"Remind me to download the security cams," Shego snorted merrily, "That's prime for the Christmas Blooper Reel!"

Which sent Kim into a further fit of giggles. "I… I thought her… head was going to… _explode!"_ she fought to get out.

"Or her eyes burst into flame!" They convulsed into a longer fit.

"Oh, oh, oh… and what's with the hair?"

"'Hood Hair'?" she smiled, "Sometimes called 'Cowl Foul'. The head wear is hard on the 'do's, especially those who wear theirs longer than 2 inches."

"Oh god, that felt good," Kim calmed. "Where were we?"

"Ah-boo-ya-ha," the green woman offered.

"Oh yeah."

"Wasn't that like, your doofus' Bad Boy evil laugh?" the pale woman ventured before wincing internally. She really needed to tread carefully around the topic of the former sidekick and boyfriend. For one thing, it seemed not all of the girl's memories were yet in place. _That's a land mine I best not trip._

"Shego!" Kim chided, "Ron's not a doofus! He's just… Ron." She finished her Loca Cola which had been forgotten on the table until she got off the floor. "He's been as faithful to me as you've been to Drakken."

_Yeaaahh, _she mused,_ definitely not all her memories are restored._

"The moment called for something," Kim shrugged, "That was the only thing that came to mind."

The verdant vixen chuckled, "Still, I would have paid good money to have seen dear ol' Betty's face as you went sailing over that wall… ."

* * *

"Ahh _BOO YAH Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha‼‼"_

Standing amid the crowd of cheering inmates, Dr Director watched with a certain detached professionalism as Kim Possible soared from sight. In her business, if one was to not continuously underestimate one's assets and opponents, one needed to frankly appreciate their abilities.

_What a magnificent agent she would have made!_

Her earphone chimed. "Director."

"Du… _couch cough_… 'ere," came the strained voice, "…_hack_… Possible is Wide."

Betty's lips twitched in a wry grin. She looked at the wall where gas clouds were yet to fully clear. Up there Will would have had a spectacular front row view until the bombs went off. _Really need to find out where she got ahold of those. _"I saw. And a truly impressive Hail Mary it was."

"All the more… _cough caaakk_… when y' consider it' been less than… _gasp_… tw'nty hours… she arriv'd 'ere… ."

"Add that somehow she motivated everyone for assistance, most of whom are in here as a direct result of her actions," she added. "You were right Will, we shall be _very_ hard pressed to deal with her. Still, we must try. Mobilize everything you can. Call in any reserve and fringe assets available. Then get some oxygen."

"Wi…," coughing fit, "do… owt… ."

Her lips drawn tight, the global peacekeeper turned to take in Kim's nearby friends. On the ground Leon struggled to roll the now unconscious dark-skinned girl off her while Ron stood there frozen, staring in shock at where he had lost sight of his girlfriend, jaw dropped.

So speechless was the boy, he had no reaction to the woman's words to nearby agents, "Detain them for questioning. I'll be setting up my command center in the warden's office." Spinning on her heel she stalked from the yard, leaving the rest of her people and the correctional officers to finish locking down the remains of the riot.

She passed Señor Senior Sr as he turned to his son. "Now _that_, Junior, is an evil laugh!" he gestured with his cane, "Come my son, we have been remiss in practicing our own… ."

* * *

"Ahh _BOO YAH Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha‼‼" _Kim crowed deliciously, pulling the cry from her diaphragm. She reveled a moment in the feel of the air rushing past, her hair whipping wildly, the looser folds of the hooded orange jumpsuit fluttering. She felt like a circus' human cannonball. It was a rush like that of a free-fall sky dive, only better since no plane was required for this.

The former hero…, _Criminal now that I've busted out of jail…,_ feeling herself reach the apex of her trajectory, glanced for the target that the Jeerleader majorette promised she would have little difficulty in seeing, and sure enough, there it was below her.

The railway ran close enough to Lemon that the super maximum security prison not only required trains to alert them to their approaches by sounding their horns in a predetermined manner, but also used them to service the supermax facility. A secure station accessed by a heavily guarded underground tunnel would accept needed supplies from properly pre-arranged delivery stops. Even mass transfers of prisoners, such as most of Kim's current arch foes, arrived from the airports they were flown into from around the world, was done in this fashion.

A series of thick brush, moats and streams, gate-less stretches of electrified fences, endless coils of razorwire, and clear spaces filled with unevenly laid sharp rocks and debris made it far too impractical to storm the walls from that direction. The lack of any clear and even overground passage between Lemon, the station, or any portion of the tracks ruled out any consideration of using the trains in any part of a breakout attempt.

_Except for this method!_

Below her the train whose horn had played an integral part in timing the break raced along at a clip she estimated to be about eighty to ninety miles per hour. It was obvious she was meant to "dismount" atop the racing transport. Fortunately the rails did not run even close to parallel to the walls, but instead seemed to be set at an angle of forty or so degrees, which only served to increase her chances of effecting a proper dismount from this maneuver. Factor in that the Jeerleaders, Sadie especially, had launched her at an oblique angle to the walls and it all combined to increase the amount of train-top for her to hit. The closer to parallel meant less surface area, less chance to "stick it".

While not the first time she ever landed atop a speeding train, this was her first time sans a vehicle or even a parachute. She was not at a matched speed. The train was moving much faster than muscle power could possible propel her, so she was going to bounce.

Bounce hard.

_How best to… oh… yeah!_

Reaching into the jumpsuit's front pocket the redhead found, transferred from her original prison garb, the mystery mass the carrot-topped Izzy had given her, Pinching off a bit Kim quickly smeared the smelly stuff about her hands as instructed. So prepared, the ex-cheerleader could do little more than wait as the hard metal rushed up at her.

Or vice versa.

At the last possible moment the fledgling criminal tucked into a roll, shutting her eyes and presenting her back for the initial impact. With eyes closed she had no idea that the ruby glow which was now an erratic part of her had flared to life.

_BWHAM‼ _

The shock reverberated throughout her glow-reinforced body, her spine taking the brunt of it, but nowhere near as bad as it should have been. She flipped on the rebound, her hands outstretched to make contact, which she did. Her lower body bounced once more but the Jeerleader's sticky stuff performed as promised and her hands remained in contact with the polished, sun-heated metal. With the sound of a tortured squeegee across dry glass she slid toward the edge, leaving behind a dark smear from her coated palms before sliding completely off the car.

Of course it was nothing, with her reflexes, to locate and grab with her fingertips the ridge of metal that formed the seam of the rooftop, her body slamming into the windows set in the side, cracking them. Startled passengers jumped first, then crowded the panes trying to get a better look.

Sucking air into her battered body, Kim rested for only a few heartbeats while taking stock of her predicament.

_Break out of jail… Check._

_Land on a speeding locomotive… Check_

_Hang on for dear life onto the side of said speeding locomotive… Check._

_Need to climb back up… Check._

Her slide across the top of the transport having burned off the effects of Izzy's Mystery Mass from her palms, Kim experimentally tried the back of her right hand. She grinned when it stuck fast. _Maybe I do need to get the recipe,_ she mused, curling her hands into fists and using them to secure herself while clambering up. Once she made the top again, the redheaded teen rolled on her back to rest for a moment.

_Catch my breath… Check._

_I just escaped a supermax prison! _the teen worked to calm her racing heart_, I can't believe I just did that!_

As if to underscore the fact that she had indeed just "did that", something went _zing!_ off the metal near her head. Then another.

_Sharpshooters! And the standing order for escapees is shoot to kill!_

The teen hero-cum-villain rolled away from the roof edge as a couple more bullets smacked where she had just been. Kim could barely see the prison towers where the shots had to be coming from, but she knew that with powerful enough scopes she was easily still visible to them in the neon orange clothing, even if a hit at this distance would take more luck and art than skill. Reaching into the pocket of Chica bombs, she pulled out a handful already knowing which she wanted.

_Grey… grey… grey…, _she rolled them in her hand until,_ There we go!_ Shoving the rest back in she slammed the marble-sized incendiary hard against the metal, this time noticing how her hand suddenly lit in her new protective ruby glow.

_Spankin! Like my super suit's forcefield, _she thought as she was engulfed by a dense yet harmless cloud of smoke,_ I've really got to learn how to call it at will!_

At eighty or so miles per hour, the thick smokescreen was quickly swept free of her girlish frame but as they were on a straight stretch of railway, it remained between her and the tower's line-of-sight. At least for a few seconds more anyway, as they were about to hit a gentle bend that would bring her back into their view. More shots winged past. While preventing them from getting a clear bead on her it did not stop them from shooting blind.

Keeping low, the teen escapee quickly made her way to the nearest space between the cars as more and more shots zipped and pinged about her. Reaching it, she dropped down and out of any chance of being seen or hit.

_Avoid being shot… Check._

Kim opened the door to the rearward car, moving up the aisle between startled passengers, some of the women screaming, mothers protecting their children as they recognized the brilliant orange Department Of Corrections jumpsuit first, then the person wearing it second.

The Infamous Teen Hero-turned-Murderer Kim Possible.

The redhead moved swiftly, knowing it could not be long before the prison, or more likely Global Justice, had units in the air and radioing for the engineer to stopover for a search. _First order of business is to get out of this ugly day-glow 'Here I am, come and arrest me' outfit! _Having the baggage car as her objective, Kim ignored everyone.

She was almost to the next door when two of the men she passed jumped her the moment her back was to them. They grabbed her high and low, grabbing her about arms and legs amid shouts of "Hold it Girlie!" and "She can't be all that tough!"

_I don't have time for this foolishness! _

Kim reacted on auto-pilot, slamming her right elbow back into the face of Low Guy. As he reeled back clutching at his nose fountaining blood, he bumped into his buddy, causing High Guy to relax his grip momentarily.

More than enough time for the girl to pivot in place inside the man's arms to face him. "I'll say this once. Let. Me. Go." she stated evenly.

The buff man, his hair cut short in a military style, smirked at her. "Or what Girlie? We Marines eat fluffs like you for breakfast. Sometimes for dessert if you ask nicely!" he guffawed. Which cut short abruptly in pain as Kim slammed her heel atop his foot and slipped down out of his grasp. Rolling backwards on the floor, both heels found in rapid order his knees, groin, stomach and his chin on her way up into a handspring then back to her feet.

The out-of-uniform marine fell back over his nose-bleeding buddy, unconscious, even as Low Guy stood, recovered for Round Two. A shake of his head and a spit sent blood clear from his face. Thinner and more wiry than his fellow, he moved into a fighting stance that screamed part brawler part judo. He lifted onto the balls of his feet to absorb the car's motion, his lower body shifting to keep his center of gravity low even as his shoulders rolled to keep his head level and locked on her.

Kim simply struck a hand-on-hip pose, not in anyway threatened by the larger man. _Please! Shego he is not! _Her voice still even, she tried to inject some menace into it, "You _so_ don't want to do this."

Smirking, "Oh yes Fluff, I so think I do." The passengers closest to them squeezed against each other to clear as far out of the way as the crowded car allowed.

"_'Fluff'?"_ the former hero cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't take that from your friend, I certainly won't from you."

"Oh, you'll take it. And ask for more."

Kim snorted, "I just escaped from a Super Maximum Security Prison filled with not only trained Correctional Officers, but reinforced with Global Justice forces." Her eyes narrowed, full of danger, "Do you really think you, _alone,_ can take me?"

The marine closed in on her, his fists meant to do the talking for him in a rapid one-two attack with a knee chaser.

At least that was his goal.

Sidestepping, the redheaded teenager slapped his first strike away before grabbing the wrist behind his second. She simultaneously tugged on it, pulling him off balance, and spun on her left foot, rolling her shoulders along the outstretched arm, whipping her right elbow up to plant it hard into exposed ribs. Continuing her motion she came out standing behind him and jabbed the heel of her left palm into the base of his skull.

Already taking a step forward, the man rolled with the blow. Leaning forward and placing his hands on seat armrests for counterbalance, he brought his left leg up in a hooking kick for her temple. Kim rotated under and stepped into it, placing her right shoulder into the crook of the knee. She straightened, hanging him up. So entangled the marine was kept off balance on his right leg as she walked them forward before hooking her ankle around to trip him. With her right hand on the back of his head she drove his face into the floor.

Hard.

He stayed down. The entire exchange took less than three seconds.

"Told you so," she said, walking atop the length of his body. The pair's female traveling companions squealed, dropping alongside their men.

Overhead came the sound of approaching helicopters. Kim could tell by the timber of the chops that most were from Global Justice. Her time to make the baggage car had slipped away.

Turning, Kim looked about at the wide-eyed passengers looking her way, most with expressions of fear and awe on their faces. She raised her voice. "By now I suppose you know who I am. From the news you know what I'm capable of, even before this manslaughter business.

"From this," she swung a hand at the two men collapsed in the aisle, "you know what I'm capable of _now._ So what say we cut through things and have some cooperation?

"You know, save some time," _I'm a criminal now, time to bank on that cash and act it! _"Save some _lives,"_ she emphasized the last word in a cold menacing tone.

Everyone nodded amid scattered and varied vocal assurances. Pointing at several women she called for articles of their clothing, "You, let's have your top… you, pants…," she ordered the girlfriends of her attackers as they were pulling them out of the way. As they hurriedly complied she moved back up the aisle taking up a collection from the terrified passengers.

_Add Aggravated Assault, Terrorism, and Grand Larceny to the list… _

_Check, Check, and Check._

In short order the redhead had assembled a serviceable yet fashionable ensemble; red hip-hugger Capri slacks, soft black knee-high moccasins, a black tube top, a long-sleeved bolero jacket only a few shades away from the slacks, and a wide brown leather belt with a double row of studs and rivets. Finally she selected several belt pouches designed for cameras, cellphones, and other assorted devices.

Feeling the pressure of time slipping away as the aircraft got closer, the young new villainess moved to the space just in front of the rear door and stripped perfunctorily to her underwear right there. Keeping a wary eye on her hostages, _In for a penny, in for a dollar! s_he quickly donned her new attire, transferring her stash of meager yet useful stuff into the belt pouches.

_Now Hostage Taking and a Strip Show… Check and Double Check._

"There! That's more like it," she modeled for the closest girls who did not seem afraid of her, "What do you think?" She smiled thinly as they nodded their approval.

"Folks," she spoke to the rest, "Thank you for your time, cooperation, and not making me hurt any more of you." Opening the door she stepped through.

* * *

"And that's all I recall so far," Kim paused.

"Wow Pumpkin," Shego drawled, "Color me impressed. I didn't think you had the chops."

The ex-hero shrugged, "I told you, I'd had an epiphany."

"Yeaahh…," Shego locked eyes with her, not for the first time marveling at how they were the same color as her own, "Mind telling me exactly what that was?"

"I'm evil."

"Right. This is based on what again Pumpkin?"

"The red tinge of my _chi_ for one. My actions for another. I've killed and maimed, and if Du is right that I'm succumbing to the influence of the Shun Leep Murderfist, I will again. I broke out of jail, evaded a manhunt, resisted arrest, terrorized and stole," the redhead listed. "Probably more I've yet to remember."

"The Murder Two charge aside, that's really not much of a list…," the woman said, secretly impressed with the short list in such a short time.

"I guess a villain's gotta start somewhere," Kim countered with a shrug. "I mean, it was all enough to earn me a death-sentence before my so-called trial even began!"

"Yeah," growled the pale green woman. She had almost forgotten the flush of anger she felt when Kim related the Global Justice conversation. It tweaked her guts the way the Straightest Arrow she had ever known had been cut loose by Director and her ilk.

_It's déjà vu all over again._

_Though I wasn't the straightest of arrows… ._

"Anyway," Kim crumpled the empty soda can with one hand, the scarlet aura flashing briefly. Without even looking she tossed it over her shoulder, sending it sailing right into the open recycling can. "I'm thinking at this point I realized you were the only one I could call on."

Shego paused in her ministrations. "What about Mom and Pop, and you know…, the Buffoon and Nerdlinger?"

"I still can't remember everything so I can only guess according to what I know and feel right now," the redhead eyed her levelly. "I may be on the path to supervillainy, but I still love my family. I'll not see them held accountable for my actions, or liable in lawsuits.

"I would think that you'd understand what it means to not want to involve family."

Shego nodded, "Hoo boy yeah, but maybe not for exactly the same reasons as you. Remember, Love-Hate relationship and the entire No-Longer-Hero thing."

"Well, my folks are not government sanctioned superheroes like yours," she nodded. "I don't expect they'd survive a fucking Spanish Inquisition meant for me."

"Cupcake! Such language!" the woman feigned shock, then smirked, "I think I _like_ this New You."

The former hero smirked and wrinkled her nose, "I know! I think I recall enough to know that I'm rather liking the freedom being evil brings."

"Tell me about it. Oh, and 'No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!'" Shego supplied the dangling punchline.

Kim threw her head back and laughed, "Bwah hah hah hah hah!" Like in the exercise yard facing Arcadian's sister, this too was from deep within her, heartfelt, and brought tears to her eyes.

Shego sat there drinking in the refreshing changes in the young woman she had reluctantly admitted to herself that over the past couple years she had fallen in love with. Who ten, almost eleven, days ago she had openly admitted it to, but was rebuffed.

_Now Little Miss Perfect is just a bit Little Miss Perfecter._

_Or is it just an act? To gain my aid and support? _Shego's normally cautious and suspicious nature fought to assert itself, _Sure she's been very poor at guile beyond the high school kind, but that was also before this. Before deciding to be evil… ._

_No, _she chided herself mentally,_ she's always been one hundred percent decisive. Whenever she makes a decision, no matter how snap, she enviably follows it through to its intrinsic conclusion, so she's bound to be on the up and up._

_Still, what might this mean for me? For us? _Shego pondered,_ I'll need to play it cool. Not spook her. I couldn't bear to be rejected again._

Finally the redhead came back down from her brief high. She wiped tears from her eyes. "I had just watched the blu-rays a month ago! Oh, _Monty Cobra_ is priceless!"

"That they are pumpkin," Shego agreed.

"As for Wade…, I can't trust that he's not been compromised by GJ. Fact is, if I bother to think about it I'm not all that certain of how much I should have been trusting him all along."

The woman frowned, "I thought he was your friend. That you trust him."

"You know the sayings, 'as far as you can throw him', and 'keep your enemies closer'?" Kim asked. "Sure he's been helpful and saved my skin loads of time, but there have been all these minor things…, y'know, small things individually, but they add up. I told you about the resonance stone he chipped me with?"

Shego nodded.

"I can't think of exactly when he did that! And that wasn't such a surprise since I had once forced him to admit that he had chipped Ron. Over the years I've caught him in a few other things. Like he accesses my bank accounts and reads my personal diary," the girl ranted, her hands gesturing expressively. "He's known all my pins, combinations and passwords without me telling him.

"And some of the things he could do with the Kimmunicator remotely would be worrisome if I hadn't bothered to ignore them," now that she was rattling off the list of things she had overlooked for a while she was getting truly worked up. "He's got _hours_ of video records about me going back _years. _He can replay almost any point in my life, even times I was totally unaware he was even watching!

"Remember that time I gave you my cold?"

"Oh yeah," she snarked. _So far the most intimate thing you ever gave me! _

_Ahh! How moopy is that?_

"He showed me a video _in my own home, _which has _no cameras, _tracking exactly how I picked up my tweeby brothers' virus‼" Kim glared, "Now that I'm daring to think about it, I have to wonder exactly _how often _and_ where _he's been watching me‼" She shuddered.

"Nice. And that's your friend?"

"Maybe no more. And not just for that as much as like my family, I want to protect my friends from the drama I'm bringing down on my head," the teen sighed. "Though thinking about all that makes it easier to cut him loose, y'know?"

"I imagine so," Shego allowed. She started to speak, then shut her mouth, thinking better of it.

However the sharp-eyed teenager caught the moment. "What?"

"No, I best not."

"Nuh-uh! Come on, spillit," Kim persisted.

"What about your _boy_friend?"

There it was again, that strange inflection on the word. Only now, with some of her memories restored, Kim was better able to understand and decipher what was behind it. "I said I'll be cutting some strings," she started carefully. "Ron's been my bestest friend since Pre-K. He's always been there for me and followed me no matter what or where it led. Maybe he'd follow me in my new chosen career. Maybe not.

"But I can't allow him to do it. It wouldn't be fair to him and I'd be a poor friend to allow him to even think of dragging his good name… his _family's _good name… through the gutter as I'm about to do to mine."

As the henchwoman nodded, Kim scooted closer so that her knees rested across the older woman's lap, grasping her hands.

Surprised, Shego froze for long seconds before looking into eyes so much like her own, yet much more expressive. _And there's a lot of expressive in there._

"Shego," the teen started, "I… think I know what… look, I remember the night in Lighting Labs including how I felt and reacted. Then. But there is a lot I'm still missing… ."

"Kimmie…,"

"No, let me finish this," Kim interrupted. "There is a lot missing right now, so I can't say anything with any sort of certainty, but remember, I called you. For Help. I don't think there is anyone else in the world I can trust at my back… or my side… than you.

"I can't deny there is a lot of chemistry between us… ."

"But…," Shego whispered.

"It wouldn't be fair to you, to us, to discuss that night until I get it all back." Kim leaned her head closer.

"And if you never do?" the woman leaned in as well until their foreheads touched. Their eyes no longer met, but they could feel each other's breath as they spoke softly. _Good thing Thirteen didn't walk in on this._

"Then I'll need time to evaluate it anew, based upon what I do get back, and where we go from here. Okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise," the exchange was little more than air felt moving across their lips.

Shego smiled. Not her usual sardonic smirk either, but a genuine smile. "I think I can live with that."

"So we're good?" the girl asked.

"Check, Princess. Triple Check."

"Meanwhile," the redheaded villainess said, her voice business like, "I have another promise I need to keep."

The pale woman pulled back, ready to submerge herself into waters more familiar and safe than this baring of emotions. "To Triple S?" Kim nodded, her face taking on the typical determination she was used to facing off against. "How many do you figure to bust free?" she asked, comfortable that this at least was something she had more experience with than the teen, "The Seniors certainly. Your evil cheerleaders possibly… ."

"All of them."

* * *

Please drop Comments and Reviews. I also accept PMs. All will receive answers, and that's a Kim Promise.

BTW, if any missed it, the Jeerleaders from Chapter 6 were all modeled on the female cast members of _Total Drama Island._ If you have NOT seen this show, by all means, you've got to!! It is BY FAR the most fun and REAL Survivor-type "Reality" Show on the air!!

I have plans for the guys from the show as well... .

See you next week!

LR


	8. Beat the Heat

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Eight – _Beat the Heat_

It was still early morning and yet it was already shaping up to be one of the hottest days ever in the second largest jungle in the world. So humid was it, tourists less acclimated to the region swore they could fill a cooking pot simply by waving it through the air.

As it was the sun was high in the sky and raining its brilliance and heat down on the dense foliage with all the intensity of a cloudburst. In point of fact, such a heavy rainstorm would have been welcome to help alleviate the brutal temperatures however poor a relief it would be. The heat was such that whatever water drops might survive to drench the green canopies would have been heated to just a few degrees less than the air itself.

Besides, the trees and foliage were so tightly packed in their competitive bids for sun and water, so thirsty for both, that on the jungle floor itself not much of either hardly ever made it. The Floodgates of Heaven could open and barely a drizzle would filter down, the sun could fall from the sky and not shed anymore light against the invasive dimness.

Yet this harsh ecosystem was alive, home to a multitude of living things, many complaining at the top of their various lungs about one matter or another that was important only to their small and meager lives. Birds called out, flitting back and forth among the high branches, some with melodious voices, some with screeches to rival chalk across a board. Insects, arachnids, and all manner of bugs chattered, clicked, and vibrated messages in warning or greeting to each other about whatever threatened their piece of mind.

The trees were alive with motion, sound, and smells of all sorts of creatures large and small as they went about their lives, and often, deaths.

One figure moved with swift assurance through this world of perpetual twilight. A teenaged native South American girl moved through the entangling overgrowth with a fluid grace as to make the monkeys jealous. The olivine skinned latina was easy to spot, her clothing standing out from the vegetation. She wore a light cotton yellow top with red trim over an equally light red wrap around mini, a sash woven with equal parts gold lamé and yellow tied about her waist. Knee-high socks of the same but lighter weaved material spilled out and folded over the tops of durable thigh-high moccasins died a matching red as her skirt. A red headband kept luxuriously shiny and sculpted waist-long hair away from a heart-shaped face framed by sharply trimmed bangs. The only jewelry she wore were a pair of five inch convex gold disks, obviously old yet lovingly cared for. They rode high enough on delicately shaped ears to shield them from flying bugs while still enhancing their slightly elvish shape.

Reaching a small stream she paused. She shrugged off a light backpack and dug out a canteen. Kneeling, she filled it with cool glacier-melt water, taking a long deep drink before topping the container off again. Replacing the cap tightly she looked over her shoulder where just now she could hear the brush rustling.

"Can you guys _try_ to keep up?" she called.

A reed thin young man broke into the open. He wore an outfit vaguely similar to her own in cloth and coloring. A red tunic with the same yellow and gold lamé trim over a cream cotton undershirt, his straight hair hanging just past his shoulders. He stumbled over a raised root, stubbing toes left exposed by lace-up sandals. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" he cried in a reedy voice, hopping about on one leg holding the foot with the offended digits. "I have to say Malina, hiking through the rain forest in this heat is a poor activity choice for a _fecha."_

"_It's not a date!"_ she corrected automatically, rolling her eyes. "I told you, _Yzma la Vida Muerta _took the others!" Clipping the canteen to a belt hidden under her sash, Malina started to fill another she produced from her pack.

"Even if she did, how can you be sure she brought them all the way out here?" he whined, sitting on the very root which he had stubbed himself. A red squirrel leaped onto his shoulder from a low hanging branch and chattered at her. "See? Bucky agrees with me," he lifted his right hand and stroked the rodent as undergrowth near them parted again, only this time much quieter.

The huge size of the slightly older man that stepped into the open was at odds with the stealthiness of his approach. Not just muscular, he was huge. The machete that hung from his belt, easily as long as Malina's arm, looked like a fillet knife in comparison to his frame; the breadth of his chest nearly as wide as he stood tall, and easily one and a half to two heads over his companions. He too wore a shift in the same color scheme as his companions as well as open-toed sandals, wavy hair bouncing about his shoulders. However his choice of under-tunic was different in that he wore a white long-sleeved button-down shirt with a black tie, and on his head sat a peculiar golden beanie with a tiny propeller atop a tall stalk. That last aside, Malina's choice of mission wear was based on the fact that in nature nasty creatures perceive bright colors as danger and tend to avoid them; red and yellow being the most popular of warning schemes.

Pacing over to the stream he too proceeded to fill his canteen after a few brief swallows. "He's got a point you know," his voice rumbled from deep in his chest. "All we have to go on are some blood splatters on the academy's mosaic map in the lobby."

"It's simple," the girl started to explain. _Again!_ "Amid all the blood there was a very legible 'Y', as if carefully scribed with one of her long nails, right where we know _Micchu Pachu_ to be. We also know that somewhere in that lost city is her crypt which unfortunately she seems to simply refuse to stay at rest in…,"

Sitting on his perch, the thin boy gazed at the leader through half closed lids as she spoke at length, her words droning into the background of his hearing. He watched as her pure white teeth played peek-a-boo behind lips the color of berry juice, the filtered sunlight sparkling in the wide expressive limpid black pools of her eyes. _Sí, I'll follow her anywhere, anytime. She is such a hottie caliente del hottie. El más caliente…, _he thought as a wide sappy smile spread on his face while he pictured how she would look in an elegant white weddin… .

"KUZ_CO‼" _

"Eh? _Qué?"_ he jolted from his revelry, nearly falling backwards off his seat, startling Bucky, who leapt away and up the nearest tree.

Malina stood in front of him, one hand holding the second water bottle, the other a fist on her hip, her deep black eyes flashing with annoyance, "Were you just calling me a 'hottie hot hottie' in your head again?"

"What? Me? Nooo… yeee… Mayyyb…, wait, what mood're you in again today?" he dissembled.

"Here!" with a huff she tossed the flask she had filled for him in his face before turning on her heel to stomp back to where her pack lay. When she knew neither of the guys could see she smiled briefly.

The _chica_ extracted two each long and short rods from her pack. The meter long rods were like stickball bats, handcrafted of Brazilian Green Ironwood, one of the densest woods on the planet. She inspected each one to ensure there were no new or unexpected flaws. The quarter meter companion items were a pair of complex things that depending on how they were configured acted as holsters, right angle grips, or could even be connected together, making the entire assembly a two meter quarterstaff.

Setting them as holsters and clipping them to her shoulders, the _chica_ slide the batons in place so they hung down, crossing her back. Then she shrugged on her backpack, "Let's get moving! We need to get in and out before nightfall. _El Yzma Inmortal_ is too powerful after sundown."

"Kronk, I need you to carry me," stated the thin boy.

The man looked at him dubiously, "Riiiight… and why is that?"

Holding out a leg, he indicated his foot, "I can't walk! I'm injured! Bones are broken, and I can feel an _infección_ taking root and spreading as I speak!"

Kronk shrugged and started over, "Well if you're hurt, you're hurt…,"

"Kuzco!" Malina admonished, "Wasn't it your _other_ foot you stubbed?"

The big man eyed the smaller one suspiciously, "I think she's right… ."

Pulling his leg back with a nervous chuckle, Kuzco said, "Oh was it? Heh ehe heh… how stupid of me, of course you're right Malina." He took to his feet, and like her, hooked the water flask she gave him to a belt under his sash.

"Isn't it enough I carry your gear, you're trying get me to lug you around as well?" Kronk eyed him hard.

Standing and with a downward spread of his arms, Kuzco indicated his reed-thin frame. _"Míreme… _Look at me, we all know I'm not physically fit enough to do all this hiking and lugging, especially in this heat and humidity. I'd dry up like a twig. Besides," he added, "I'm a direct descendant of _emperadores Incan."_ He crossed his arms, smirking.

"Riiiight…," Kronk drawled as he adjusted his over-sized pack which indeed was filled with most of the boy's gear. He was gratified however that Kuzco had learned the wisdom of carrying his own water after the last time he had gotten separated from them on a mission. "Ready when you are Boss," he nodded at Malina.

She too had nothing to say about Kuzco's claim to Incan Royalty as she nodded and set off again, pulling ahead as her cheerleader's grace made her the best one to blaze the trails. Kuzco followed in an easy jog, his stringy and wiry frame less than fragile, his previous assertions to the contrary aside. As his squirrel _compañero_ hopped back to its usual shoulder perch and hung on, he muttered, "What a fun _fecha."_

"_It's not a date‼"_ came back the expected correction from ahead just before he hit the brush in her wake with less finesse. All three smiled at the familiar routine between the two, even if none of them saw. As usual Kronk slipped in, his skill somewhere between the others, bringing up the rear.

While Malina set a time devouring pace she was able to devote a portion of her mind for reflections.

The reason they were unable to refute the boy's heritage was because they all knew it to be true. More than simply a descendant, in a past life Kuzco de Emperadores _had_ been emperor. The tale of that time was one only passed down by spoken word among selected families among the scattered tribes in the area. None of it written, for the tale was not only one of a grand era in the sketchy history of their people, but also one that held a dark and terrible secret.

Grand because once an egotistical and self-centered young Emperor-To-Be Kuzco learned many life lessons and ascended to the throne, the _Consorte Malina de la Emperatriz_ at his side, he ushered in an _Era de Oro de Prosperidad,_ a Golden Era of Prosperity, unmatched by any other period for the Incan people.

Dark in that it was tainted and brought to an end so abrupt by an unheard of before evil it was decreed all records be erased from history. All thanks to the envy, greed, avarice, and unparalleled taste for power by one person that her name would have defined new levels had uttering it not been feared to bring plagues and pestilence upon them.

_Yzma._

_Yzma el Mal. El Destructor. El Inmortal, el V__ida Muerta…, _Yzma the Evil… the Destroyer… the Immortal… the Living Dead.

Always resorting to magic in her schemes to usurp the young emperor, the obsessed former regent finally turned to the darkest kind. Sealing a pact with _Supay,_ Ruler of the _Uca Pacha y los Muertos,_ the Underworld and the Dead, Yzma was to have power, third only to him, until she ruled as _Emperatriz mil años,_ Empress for a thousand years.

Her ambitions were derailed with her apparent death at the hands of the Emperor and Empress, a small group of faithful friends and a squirrel, but not before uttering a curse upon them anchoring all their _almas inmortales,_ their immortal souls, to this plane until she could ascend the throne.

Snaking their way through the thick vegetation, the companions moved swiftly, never losing sight of the one before them. Insects, lizards and small animals either scurried out of their path or froze until they passed. Keeping conversation to the bare minimum required only to warn or advise of some feature of the terrain, they fell into an easy rhythm that proceeded to cover ground despite heat and humidity oppressive even for them. In true jungle fashion Kuzco and Kronk's feet fell in exactly the same steps as Malina's, finding the same rocks, splashing the same puddles.

The trio all knew of the story, having heard as little niños this tale passed down from generation to generation. All knew it by heart.

Malina de la Orquídea _believed._

Fully. Completely. With her entire being.

Believed ever since her grandmother, who related the stories to her often like bedtime fables, passed in her sleep. That same night Malina's soul was infused with her ancestor's and her dreams of the fantastic tales became much more vivid. As if seen through the ancient heroine's eyes.

Some of those dream-like memories were nightmares.

_Sí, sí, _she believed, even as she could tell the others wanted terribly not to when came time for their souls' reconstitutions. Just as they agreed not to let the others know unless there was need.

The others acursed.

Through the ages Malina and Kuzco seemed to be the principle target for Yzma's ire, Kronk less so, but the man's huge heart always got him involved in the many adventures until the passed down history spoke of them as inseparable. At times it felt it.

The others could sometimes go generations without coming back to _el Inmortal's_ notice.

This generation, some of them had.

Coming to a wide gorge, a strong fast moving river hundreds of feet below, the Peruvian cheerleader did not pause, did not break stride, leaping for a hanging vine and swinging her way across. Kuzco arrived next with Kronk soon after. As they panted, catching their breath, they waited while Malina, safe on the other side, tied a broken branch to weight it. She sent it back.

Kuzco made a grab for it and was nearly knocked from his feet but the larger man steadied him. "I don't know Kronk," he eyed the ravine as if it was ready to swallow him whole. Bucky scampered up the growth and then across the parent branch it dangled from. "This one I'm not too sure of."

Cocinero Pepikrankenitz, Kronk to everyone, just grunted. Taking the creeper from his smaller friend, he tested it for strength under his weight. Without further word he swung Kuzco by his upper arm onto his back. While waiting for the teen to adjust his grip, Kronk retested the vine with their combined weights.

Watching from the other side, the _chica_ bit back the urge to hurry them. Time was passing swiftly. By her reckoning it was shy of noon, nightfall about six hours away, and they had a long way yet to go before reaching the original seat of the Fallen Empire, abandoned and forgotten long before _Machu Picchu _was built. Yet she knew the big man was doing the right thing, taking the right steps to assure their safe crossing. If any of them were to die there was no telling when their souls would reconstitute again.

Certainly not in time to stop Yzma's current plan. Over the centuries many of Peru's bad times and misfortunes could be traced by those in the know to the Unliving One's machinations to restore the Empire and take the throne. Each stopped by their _encarnaciones_ of the time. Just the year before during what Kuzco called _El Arma del Diablo, _the Devil's Gun, they barely managed to upset her plan to rain destruction from the heavens upon the Amazonian coastal region, with only the one meteorite being summoned. While fortunate it only impacted near Carancas village by Lake Titicaca at the Bolivian border, it was sad that so many grew ill and died. Unable to comprehend the simple concept it was Evil, scientists diagnosed it as radiation sickness.

The trio had been sobered when news of the more than six hundred afflicted reached them. Better than the entire world, _sí,_ but a grim reminder to their current incarnations it was no game.

Now _el Destructor _had her best friend Yatta, the rest of the cheer squad, Moxi, Curi, Cuxi, and Cuca, as well as athletes Ozker and Ramone. It was rare for all of their souls to be restored to ages same as when they first met Yzma before she became _el Vida Muerta. _Malina's brow creased as she pondered if that was why the others were now on the Foul One's radar.

Not that it was that important, if they could not prevent whatever evil the undying woman was setting in motion there was no telling what would befall them, Peru, and perhaps even the world. They had to get there in time!

_Well, maybe Yzma could be convinced to keep Moxi…, _Malina's mouth drew a thin line. For some reason the obnoxious other _chica_ felt cheated of a manifest destiny because she was not the head cheerleader. It was only worse each time she became aware of her reincarnated past. _You'd think by now she'd get used to never getting her way… ._

Finally assured of his grip on the vine and Kuzco's grip on him, the big guy swung across with no incident, other than an excited "Wheeee!" from the boy. Dropping to the ground lightly he secured the vine in case they needed to recross in a hurry later.

Pausing a moment's more to drink from their water supply, they again set off, as usual the driven latina taking point.

* * *

Dr Director sat behind William Smither's desk in the warden's office, a hastily set up communications console sprawling across the top his usual things, half a dozen thin screen monitors arrayed in a semi circle. The displaced warden sat off to one side looking torn as to how he should feel. On the one hand he was visibly annoyed how the slight woman had disrupted his sanctum, his nerve center. Speaking of nerves, a couple were twitching visibly across his forehead, alternating sides.

However on the other hand, he knew he had no room to bitch since Kim Possible, _a fucking skirt, and a teenaged one at that,_ had done the impossible. What _no one_ in the history of Lemon County Super-Maximum Security Correctional Facility had done. _Ever! _

_Escaped! On muscle-power only, in the middle of the sun-shining God Damn daylight in plain view of everyone!_

"Impossible!" he had barked into his aged carphone when he received word while still three miles out. The CO on the other end had responded with something like, "Apparently nothings impossible for a Possible… ."

Smithers had thrown the handset out the window but the cord had hung up on something and the thing bumped about for a mile or so, whacking the back of the car incessantly before it was lost for good.

Now he could only fume wordlessly as this UN appointed _harpy_ sat in _his_ chair at _his_ desk giving orders to _his_ people! The only upside was that technically, since she had taken charge the actual break had been on _her_ dime.

_At least she hasn't done much better!_

The woman was frowning deeply. "What do you mean she's not on the train?" she said to one of the monitors, the face of which he was not positioned to see, tapping another with a pen. "According to satellite telemetry she is in either on that train or within fifty meters of it! _Find her!"_

From the tightness in her voice Smithers figured she was about to lose it completely, but her face was the epitome of control even if it looked like a death ray was about to flash from the one good eye. He was both impressed and frightened by her.

She turned to another screen, "Will."

"Du here," the voice responded immediately as if expecting the call.

"Report."

"Possible remains Wide."

"_I KNOW THAT!"_ she suddenly closed her eye and sat back in the chair. _His_ chair. He smiled at her discomfort while he had the chance without her seeing. The voice, Will, remained quiet. Waiting. Either he was used to his boss' outbursts or he was that well trained.

Finally regaining her composure, she sat forward again. "My apologies Will. I know it's not your fault. Kim is proving every bit as elusive to us as she has against any of her opponents. Now I understand Sheldon's frustrations concerning her. You always warned that she was a two-edged sword."

"Understandable ma'am." _Not even a trace of 'I told you so',_ the warden marveled, _definitely a professional._

"Anything useful to report?" she asked, narrowing her eye, "That I don't _already_ know?"

"She assaulted two vacationing marines who attempted to apprehend her."

"How badly did she hurt them?" The warden was surprised how she automatically assumed the little slip of a girl won. Then he heard the reply.

"One has suffered a shattered chin, two broken knees and a foot, and it might be possible at least one of his testicles has to be removed." Smithers winced, suddenly glad she was no longer his problem. Will continued, "The other has, simply put, a broken face."

Director's one good eye blinked rapidly. It was almost comical. "Bro… 'broken _face'??"_ she stammered, "How is that even _possible?_ And I swear Will, if you say to me 'anything is possible for a Possible' I will station one part of you in Siberia, another part in Australia, yet another in Antarctica and _By God _I will see the moonbase finished if only to send the rest of you!"

If the unseen agent was taken aback by the threat, it was not in his voice, "I could put the field doctor on to detail the actual bones with their proper names… ."

She held up a hand, "Broken face. I get it. What else've you got?"

"A list of everything she took from the other passengers, which mostly consists of clothing, so we know what she is wearing."

"Until she changes."

"There is that."

"That's it? She's been at large less than an hour and you're telling me she is nowhere to be found?" no longer railing at the screen, a complete calmness settled on her face. Smithers shivered from the sight.

"Basically."

Leaning closer to the monitor she said in an even voice, "Will, divide the squads into tearing apart the train and terrain. They are not to quit until we know why SkySat One is telling us she is sitting there under our noses. Have you mobilized the fringe assets yet?"

"Yes ma'am, the first of them should be arriving within twenty minutes."

"Good. Now I have another task for you…,

"Activate South America. Personally. I want them here tonight."

"Will do. Out."

The warden wondered why that made the woman chuckle.

* * *

Night was threatening to drop any moment. While clear of the Amazonian Rainforest itself, night in this part of the world still came quick. Like flipping off a light switch quick. One moment the sun would be touching the mountaintops. The next it would be gone, lost behind them, the shadows of the peaks themselves hastening the fall of darkness.

Which was why they needed to make their moves, and fast.

The three companions had reached _Micchu Pachu_ forty minutes ago, having taken that long to stealthily make their way through the ruins of the secret Lost First Incan Capital City to _el Malvado's_, the Evil One's, crypt while avoiding traps both mundane and _mágico,_ before splitting up.

"Okay," Malina had directed, her voice kept low in case there were magic-ear spells at work, "Kronk, you circle around west and be prepared to act on our signal…,"

"What's that to be?" the man rumbled as quietly as his massive chest allowed.

"You'll know it. All 'yzma' will be breaking out," she assured. He nodded absently, his eyes ever scanning the worn and broken remains of buildings around them and the shadows they cast. "Kuzco," she continued, "You're both the distraction and the bait. Most of her schemes to ascend the throne require her to kill you immediately upon restoring the empire."

"Heh ehe heh," the skinny youth chuckled, "It's all about me…,"

"Exactly," the chica agreed before sending them on their separate ways. She did not bother to give the reincarnated emperor any more specific directions. Not only would he probably forget or ignore them, his own bumbling dumb luck was generally more effective.

That was ten minutes ago. The latina cheerleader was positioned atop a still sturdy if weather worn cairn, itself atop a hillock overlooking the tomb's courtyard. Stretched out on her stomach she used binoculars to observe the _situación_ unfolding below her.

Her friend Yatta and the others were laid out on a huge dais with a Incan sun-with-face carved into it, gagged. They were positioned in _crucifijo,_ crucifix form, their legs together pointing to the center, their hands stretched out to where with small effort they could touch fingertips. Leather bindings affixed them to the stonework at wrists and ankles, the eight bodies forming a sun icon comprised of flesh…,

_Ocho cuerpos?? _Malina looked again, closer,_ Eight bodies?? Who the hell…?_

Checking the faces she counted them off. _Yatta…, Moxi…, _the decathlon champion,_ Ozker…, _then the rest of the cheerleader squad, _Curi, Cuxi, and Cuca…, _the other athlete,_ Ramone…, and finally…,_

_Lalala la Princesa?? The movie star??_

The girl rested her forehead against the sun-warmed stone under her. _What the fuck is she doing here? She wasn't there, wasn't one of the cursed. Or was she?_ Malina lifted her head to peer through the glasses again,_ she was once betrothed to Kuzco by Royal Decree. If that included any sort of artefacto mágico__…,_

Then the curse could have been transmitted to her in that far off region of the empire she was sent to live. _All this time we never knew. We just thought it a coincidence, the star sharing both name and looks with her ancestor._

Of all the faces she had just observed, Yatta's was the most composed. _But then she knows. Might not believe anymore that Kuzco or Kronk care to, but as my friend she's always accepted what I've told her._ Lalala's was the most scared and upset. She had obviously been screaming, or more likely, bitching up a storm as her entire lower face was wrapped, but her eyes remained lit with fear and anger.

Stationed about the dais like statues at the head of each captive were strong muscular men, their rotting bodies covered half-red and half-blue with fading body paint. _Imperial Guards. Exercising our power over the dead again are we?_

_So predictable._

_Now, where are we?_ She scanned about looking for the undead former regent. Then she lifted her line-of-sight. _Ah there we are. Dios! Nearly nine hundred years old and you still don't look a day over two thousand. No wonder Sapay made that deal with you, he must've gotten a hard-on when you summoned him… ._

The woman was always skeletally thin even in life, her dry grey skin draped loosely on her bones yet pulled taunt across her skull. Her usual sparkling purple gown and raggedy feathered headdress just as gaudy as ever. She sat above the area on a stone throne built over the entranceway of the mausoleum, rocking her crossed leg. Her mouth was moving, but she was too far for the cheerleader to hear. She was probably monologuing for the sake of her captives since the zombie palace guards were incapable of caring less. _Or independent thought._

A sudden clatter and distant yelp heralded Kuzco's appearance as he tumbled down a slope amid old pots and pans. In typical Kuz-style he came to a rest almost perfectly in front of Yzma, his rear end firmly planted into a metallic pot. While Malina could not hear him either, after nearly a century in his company she could lip-sync along with him.

"_Heh ehe heh… my butt's in an urn…"_

A stealthy movement from the edge of her sight pulled her attention to Kronk moving into position around the base of the crypt's entrance, machete in hand. The latina glanced toward the sun. It was just touching the top of the mountain range, throwing out a few scintillations where the scattered glacial ice fields refracted the beams like miniature rainbow starbursts.

_Light switch about to get flipped,_ she thought, taking a last look through the spyglasses, _and so is yours el V__ida Muerta! _

_Oh no! _At a gesture from Yzma the blue and red zombies moved, drawing forth daggers, and with perfect parade-ground unison moved to the struggling hostages. _Time to go to work!_

Hastily putting the device away the girl drew her twin batons and quickly configured the holsters to right-angle handles. Gripping them with the length along her arms, she leapt from the mound of stones and ran down the slope with the speed and grace of a jaguar.

Extracting himself from the pot, Kuzco stood up, "Yzma, I know you want to be empress, but you know what the downside of using my old guards as pawns is, don't you?"

The thin woman turned her malevolent gaze from the ritual sacrifice in the making to the skinny lad. "No Kuzco, what downside?"

The reincarnated emperor struck a dramatic pose and at the top of his voice shouted…

"THEME MUSIC!"

The zombies, their blades just beginning to draw blood from eight throats, froze. They looked up and as one sang, all the souls present recognizing the words as in the lost tongue of the Ancient Incas.

_He's on his way to the throne, he's on his way to success.  
_

_But he has to go to school, he has to ace, that, test._

The skeletal woman threw back her head and let roar to the heavens, _"NOOOO!" _As if in response to her anguish came cracks of lightening amid the mountain peaks along with the crashes of thunder.

Blood seeping from incomplete but not yet fatal cuts on the prisoners' necks, started to wind about carved channels toward the center of the design and a waiting depression.

_He's an emperor to be and he's to-tal-ly,_

_Got to fulfill his dest-i-ny._

With a battlecry of his own, _"¡Mueren absolutamente unos!"_ Die dead ones! Kronk swept in among the chanting undead guards wielding his ridiculously long blade, claiming a head with each powerful swing, lightening and thunder punctuating his motions.

_Don't try to stop him, to top him…_

"Kuzco! Kuzco! Go, Go!" Launching herself above the headless shoulders of guards that Kronk already dealt with, Malina hopped from one broad shoulder to another, her objective the carved stone seat on the mausoleum, and the Evil One there. "You have to tend their wounds, stop the bloodflow, or they'll die!"

_He's got the cool. He's got the charm and the look,_

_And the hottie that can help him read that thing, called, book._

The number of voices singing reduced rapidly as the huge man continued his way around behind them. Kuzco squeezed his way between the dead bodies and proceeded to rip strips off the bottom hem of his tunic. Swiftly he made makeshift bandages to staunch the flow of his friends' life blood while using a dagger to slash the bindings, the eyes of each pleading as he worked. Not bothering to undue their gags he instructed each to press against the cuts and run for it. He worked to get to them all.

"You're too late _chica‼"_ the Old One crowed when Malina stood before her, weapons raised, "See? Only a few drops of _sangre_ of each need mix to complete the spell‼" She pointed at the altar where thin streams of red were nearly touching the center depression, "The glory of the Incas shall be reborn! Then all I need do is spray that buffoon's life upon the winds to seal my right to rule!

"Brrrriiilliiiannt‼" Thunder rumbled, this time much closer overhead despite the clear skies.

Without thought, the lithe latina twisted and let fly with one of her batons.

_His friends are loyal. It's royal._

The wooden rod flew true to lodge squarely in one of the carved lines just ahead of its rivulet of red. However it did not fully reach the bottom of the channel.

Kronk was at the last of the dual colored zombies. He swung. Thunder rolled.

_They'll help against the foil… ._

"Kuzco! Kuzco! Go, Go!" Malina pointed to the rod.

With a desperate lunge, the scrawny former emperor leapt for Malina's weapon, jamming it to the bottom of the stone trench.

Only seven thin streams of blood pooled in the center.

"_NOOOOOOOO‼!"_ The mystic energies building up over head continued to flash and tremble as if in frustration, seeking a release.

The cheerleader turned back to the screeching harpy, "It's over Yzma!"

The sun finally flipped its switch and the area plunged into darkness. The eyes of the grey skinned abomination flashed with renewed power. _"Nunca!"_ Never! she cried blasting Malina in the chest with an energy blast from a clawed hand, sending the teen flying to land on the far side of the raised stone-worked dais, her baton lost in the night. With a wave of her will, torches throughout the area flared to life, lighting the scene in flickering reds and yellows.

Yzma _el Mal_ grunted. Looking down she stared at the hilt of Kronk's sword-like machete sprouting from where her heart used to beat like a bizarre broach. Pulling it out she laughed, a sound like bones cracking under a millstone, tossing it away. "You imbecile! You can't kill me!"

"Riiiight…," he drawled, "Had to try."

"And you Kuzco! You did not stop the spell, merely postponed it," raising her hand to the girl's baton she sent it flying into the night with a gesture.

The final line of blood renewed its march. Lightening lit the area as if eager.

After the thin boy cut loose the last of the hostages he went seeking the ironwood weapon. Kronk reached for the sword of one of the headless guardsmen but halted, his throat suddenly constricting. He dug at his neck for whatever was the cause but found nothing but his own skin.

"Ah ah ah," the undying regent tutted, her hand extended in a gripping motion at the giant man. He struggled more as her fingers curled tighter.

A five inch golden disk swished out of the darkness, separating grey hand from wrist. Kronk collapsed with a wheeze, pulling in humongous lungfuls as Malina leapt back atop the raised altar, her other golden earring in hand even as she caught the returning first one.

"_Ha. Terminado."_ It's. Over, she growled, the torchlight reflecting from her deep limpid black eyes giving her a terrifyingly determined appearance.

Yzma paused.

Only for a moment. "Look!" she pointed as the final blood line welled at the lip over the center collecting bowl, _"He ganado_, I've won‼" Lightening crashed again.

From out of nowhere flashed a small furry streak of red, moving surprisingly fast on three legs. Yet the amazing thing was what was clutched in it's forth paw.

A twig, alit with flame.

With her remaining hand Yzma blasted away at the rodent. "Filthy vermin!"

Bucky scampered broken field across the dais, never losing his grip on his miniature torch.

Malina let fly both earrings with a crossed arm throw.

"Got you now!" the Old One crowed in triumphant, taking careful aim as the squirrel paused on the carving. Power built in her palm.

Both golden disks arrived at the same time, cutting off hand from wrist and wrist from arm. The blast unleashed from the falling appendage into the night sky.

The latina raced across the stonework, scooping Bucky up even as he touched the match-like flame to the eighth line of blood, yet to drop into the bowl. Legs tucked under, she cleared the still standing circle of headless minions with a leap, the faithful rodent clutched to her belly as the magics that had been building ignited… incomplete…, unleashing a massive beam of _energía mágica_ straight to the heavens. The stones of the altar crumbled and broke apart, flying skyward, the fleshly remains of the dead guardsmen evaporated, and the thunder and lightening dispelled with a resounding clap.

When it was finally safe to look, _el Destructor _was nowhere to be seen. Her crypt stood wide open and empty.

"Think she's finally gone?" the big man asked.

The teen snorted, "Hardly, she'll never rest until she gets her un-beating heart's desire."

"We'll be here for her next try," Malina declared evenly.

"And the next, next try," Kuzco added.

"And the try after that," Kronk folded his arms.

As the trio tended to the rest of their friends, answering questions but trying to withhold the full truth to protect their peace of mind, helicopters flew overhead. Spotlights turned night to day as the first one touched down.

Out stepped Agent Du of Global Justice. Before even a word was spoken he took in the ragged group and turned back to the aircraft calling for medics. Then he turned to face the three companions.

"I am not sure what show we just missed, but it looks like you could use a ride."

* * *

_**Parte Dos de la Negación,**_** Disclaimer, Part Two: **The characters from The Emperor's New School/Groove/Kronk's New Groove belong to Disney. This _encarnación,_ incarnation of them is my vision and cannot be used without _permiso, _permission.

The idea of redressing Malina as a replacement Kim came about upon realizing that she is both a cheerleader and an A-type personality. The reincarnation backstory came about in the need to bring the characters to modern times. I trust you can enjoy the parallels between Team Malina and Team Possible.

Oh, and Malina's full name, _Malina de la Orquídea_ means "Malina of the Orchid". It, her fighting style, and her weapons are inspired by _B. Orchid _from_ Killer Instinct._ The comment about "jaguar" also hints at an ability for my favorite latina cheerleader.

Thanks for reading and please leave a Review.

See you next week!

LR


	9. Five Words

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Nine – _Five Words_

"_All of them?"_ exclaimed Shego.

The redhead nodded, "That's right."

"How many 'all of them' are we talking about?"

"All all."

The woman swung her might-be-future-lover's legs off her lap and got up. Pacing to the wall screen, she turned back, her face in it's full snarky glory. An interesting sensation ran down Kim's back, like a warm shiver. "Kimmie, have you _any_ idea the population of a supermax the size of Lemon?"

"The Lemon Correctional Facility…," the redhead started in a flat tone of voice that screamed _memorized._ Shego recognized it from her many trips through the judicial system as the same orientation litany recited by a Correctional Officer during transport to any permanent facility, "…is a Federal Super Maximum Security Penitentiary located in Lemon County, Colorado," _Damn, her memory is razor sharp! And her recall when she exercises it is astounding. This neural scrambling thing must be eating her alive. _"It has a high concentration of members of the so-called Supervillain community including their henchmen, requiring up-to-date, state-of-the-art… ."

"Yeah yeah yeah," the enforcer waved her hand, "I've heard it like a zillion times." She locked eyes with the fledgling villain, "The short answer to my question is: three thousand inmates. Three thousand!"

"…With a current population of some twelve hundred inmates…," Kim skipped ahead in the recitation then added in her normal voice, "Factor into that about two fifty, tops, transferred in for my trial and I arrive at a rounded up figure of a cool thirteen hundred."

The green woman staggered, blinking at her, "Di…did you just _hear_ yourself? You want to spring _thirteen hundred _from a _supermax??"_

"So not the drama," came the casual response.

"So _plenty _the drama, Kimmie!" she threw her hands up in the air, turning in place just to have some where to go. "It's hard enough to get _two or three_ out of a super-freakin'-max. _Thirteen_ nearly unheard of." She leaned over, placing her hands on the coffee table, "Thirteen _hundred_ is impossible!"

Still sitting lengthwise on the sofa, Kim crossed her legs, shoving down all the sudden erotic thoughts rising at the back of her mind that the woman's pose inspired, _where did all _that_ come from? _"I think you mean _Kim _Possible, but it's a common mistake. Remember, 'anything is possible for a Possible'."

"Believing your own hype, are you?" Straightening back up, unconsciously adopting the same posture she would for any of Drakken's wackier plans, Shego smirked at the teen hard, "I'll tell you what Cupcake…,

"You pull this off and I'll do and be whatever you want for the rest of our lives."

The redhead cocked an eyebrow, _"'Whatever' _I want?"

"Whatever, wherever, whenever, however," Shego confirmed with a nod, crossing her arms, "Forever."

"Are there any hidden terms on this proposal?" Kim mimicked her friend's smirk. _Friend is she now? Barely thirty minutes ago I was ready to kick her ass. What a difference a few memories make!_

"What's that you always say? Your personal catchphrase?" the pale green woman prompted.

"You mean, 'I can do anything'?"

"Them's the terms," Shego nodded again, "You can do… anything."

"Are you _sure…?" _Kim swung her feet to the floor. Standing, she padded to where her former nemesis stood, consciously working to put a sashay into her hips. _Oh god I feel so wicked!_

_What the hell am I saying??_ the woman fought down a sudden surge of panic. "Sure as anything I've ever done."

"Including…," the teen eyed her levelly, "go straight?"

To her credit, even thought her slightly Asian eyes widened and brows shot up into her hairline, the pale green woman did not hesitate in her response, "Even that." _As if there's even the remotest chance of that! Pulling off the single largest prison break in history will lock you into villainy pretty much for good. Or bad, as the case may be… ._

Standing before her, the new villainess held out her hand, "Then shake on it."

Shego looked at the proffered hand then into the eyes, examining what she saw there for a couple hard seconds. _Complete confidence. She _does_ believe her own hype! _Her usual sardonic smile on her lips, she slapped her hand into the teen's, giving it a strong perfunctory shake.

With surprising speed and strength and before Shego could react, Kim tugged her close, her other arm snaking up to pull down on the back of her head. Before the woman knew it, they were in a full liplock.

It was warm and wet and very, very insistent. _Hungry. _Yet before she could really get into it, the former hero released her, eyes half closed and licking her own lips as if to savor the aftertaste. With a smile she slowly pulled away, leaving the green woman staring at her, hand to her lips, in about as much shock as she ever displayed in her life.

Pleased, but still shocked. "Wha…?" _Damn! She just _stole_ a kiss from me! _the woman marveled with a dawning smile, _Here I'm the thief and she just stole… my heart I think! __If I wasn't in love before, I am now._

"Let's just say I'm starting my evaluation a little early," Kim impishly grinned. _Oh yeah, I'm wicked,_ then,_ Where the hell does all this keep coming from?_ "Funny…,"

"What?"

"I've kissed Ron like a thousand times since we stepped it up," she turned to head back for the couch. _Hell. That's where it's coming from, Hell. I'm going straight to Hell for sure._

A quirk of an eyebrow and slight frown, "Yeah? So?"

Sitting and draping her arms along the back of the cushions, "So I've never before felt it in my toes like just now." _Is this how it was for Shego when she turned to Evil?_

_I know that pose. She's luxuriating in her new lifestyle, trying it on for size._ Smirking, "I take it that's a good thing."

"Oh, the eval is off to a _very_ good start." the girl nodded. S_o be it, I'll just have to enjoy the ride before it's time for Piper paying._

"Glad to hear it," smiling on the inside, Shego recrossed her arms, reclaiming her personal space. "Now back to business. Or do you plan to kiss your way in and out of Lemon?" she sneered lasciviously.

Kim tapped her temple, "I don't know exactly when I thought this out, but apparently I've already _devised a cunning plan, m'lord."_

Secretly impressed, Shego nonetheless put on her best pokerface, "Alright, _Red Adder,_ do tell."

"What do you know about the _Skybus 400?"_

"The aircraft?" As a pilot, Shego prided herself on keeping abreast of all things aviation. She dug deep for the information, "The Skybus A400 is a double-deck, wide-body, six-engine airliner designed by the Canadian corporation: Skybus, and slated to be the largest passenger airliner in the world. Currently in production, the Skybus A4XX has been nicknamed the Superjumbo."

Kim nodded, "And the passenger capacity?"

"In its three-class configuration it will seat nine hundred and fifty, its two-class will seat eleven hundred and in a single-class config…," her eyes went wide.

"Yes?" prompted the teen.

Slowly Shego padded over and sank into the same spot on the loveseat where Kim had first sat. For long moments the woman pondered, then slowly, "Pumpkin…, how do _you_ know this?"

"My dad's a rocket scientist. He has plenty of friends in the fields of aviation development. I overheard him discussing it one day," she explained with a 'no big' wave of her hand. "But please, finish what you were about to say."

"The proposed single economy class configuration will seat twelve hundred," she finished in an awed whisper.

"The thirteen hundred figure is rounded up so push come to shove, some may have to sit in laps." Kim waited for the full realities to sink in and sure enough…,

"Wait a minnit Kimmie!" the snark and fire was back, "That'll never work! And I'll tell you why!"

The teen pulled her heels back to her butt, hugged her legs, and rested her chin on her knees. "Do tell Julip," her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Well the…, 'Julip'?"

A shrug, "Just trying out some nicknames of my own."

"Well don't," the henchwoman growled, "I've heard every variation of green you can think of, from 'Minty Fresh' to 'Stachio' and 'Stach'. And don't even think about limes."

"Sorry, I'll try another tack then."

"Please do," she nodded curtly, surprised she was even allowing the girl this liberty. She had been teased mercilessly as a child by both brothers and schoolmates. It had been a long time since she allowed anyone to be that familiar with her. Not even the rare past lovers.

"As you were saying?" Kim prompted, her smile lessened but not the gleam in her eyes.

"Right," Shego recollected her train of thought. "The Skybus is some two hundred seventy-five feet in length with a wingspan ten feet shy of three hundred…," the enforcer leaned over to pick up the multi-remote again. Leaning back she manipulated the screen to internet mode and called up first an aerial picture of the prison, then split-screened it with a surveyor's map.

"Mind you these are rough numbers, I'll have to look'em up to get exacts, but it will require a straight flat stretch some forty-five hundred to five thousand feet to land. Three thou minimum. And that's just empty. Once filled – overfilled – with passengers it'll need to run a good _ten _to_ twelve thousand_ to get back up again."

Pulling a laser pointer, with a green beam, from the pouch at her ankle, the woman began to move it all around the screen. "Here are the problems. The highway is straight enough for both an _Ell _and_ Tee-Oh_ that a reasonably good enough pilot can compensate for any minor 'waggles' in the roadway… _except_ for such features as light-poles, billboards, powerlines, and _oh my!_ a coupla overhead roadways and crossovers!" The beam "scribbled" all along the highway as if a crayon eradicating a bad picture.

Kim continued to hug her legs and followed along wordlessly.

"The railway is not as straight, with more bends for which an _expert_ pilot could compensate but…,"

"Same problems with rail-side obstacles," the redhead jumped in.

"Oh, that's just the easy problem," the beam danced to the surveyor's map. "Notice the elevations? The tracks are lower than the surrounding terrain! Not enough to notice _unless you happen to need three hundred feet clearance for wings and those things that hang under them that actually move the thing!"_

"Add that they aren't at all smooth. Even if the wheel base of the landing gear could actually clear it to the ground in that trench, the combination of rails, cross-ties and ballast stones would probably blow half the tires on landing. When it's at its lightest!

"And that's not considering the intentionally hard to cross landscaping features intentionally laid down between the prison, rail and roadways making any overland difficult. Or the trigger happy guards on the walls and those tower-mounted miniguns," Shego finally wound down, after laser 'scribbling' across the entire screen.

She sat back with a snort of disgust, tossing the pointer on the table where it clattered almost to the opposite edge, kicking her feet up on the table and crossing them, "See? Not doable. I won't have to put out for the wager."

After a minute of total silence while staring at the toes of her black and green boots, Shego looked over at the redhead. She was surprised to see Kim still hugging her knees to her chest, her chin resting on top, grinning like the cat-that-ate-the-canary. She grunted, "Wha?"

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were disappointed about not becoming my slave," the teen rested one foot on the other, toes curling.

Another grunt, "Who said anything about slave? Not me."

"Five words you said," Kim held up a fist, lifting a finger with each word, "'Whatever, wherever, whenever, however…, Forever'. Then I believe you summed it up in one sentence," clenching them back into a fist rapidly, "'I can do _anything'._

"Sounds like 'slave' to me," dropping her arm back around her legs.

The woman snorted, returning her gaze back to her boot tips, "Whatever. _'Toe-may-toe, poe-tah-toe'._ It matters not. Deal's moot. It can't be done."

Still the grin.

Shego cut her eyes back to her former rival. "Still with the Cheshire?" _Damn! She's got more to this plan! _"Okay, spill."

"Deal still stands?"

"You know I don't back out on anything so stop toying with me."

"Until after I win?"

"Dammit Kimmie!" she ignited one of her hands.

"Okay okay," the new villain raised hands in a mock warding gesture. "Calm down Sparky."

"Yeeaah, okay… first, that's another for the reject pile," she pointed at her, the plasma dying out, "Second, you're just too pleased with yourself. Care to share with the class?"

"My plan requires neither road nor railway."

"Then where _do_ you plan to plop this puppy down Princess?"

Kim shifted on the couch letting her knees drop apart and placing the soles of her feet together so her legs formed a very rough square. With a jet-like whistle she had both hands, thumbs interlocked but fingers spread, "fly" over and then straight down into the center. She looked up at her friend with expectant eyes and that same shit-eating grin, "Right smack in the center and it's 'loading time'."

Cocking her eyebrow again, Shego simply said, "The Skybus series are not VTOL capable Pumpkin."

"Which is why we'll need four to six Mi-27 heavy-lifters," At the green woman's skeptical expression she continued, "Does Drakken have any handy?"

"You're kiddin', right?" Shego snorted.

* * *

"You're kidding, right?" Dr Drakken finally caught his breath after a five minute long sputtering laugh.

Shego, with Kim in tow, found him twenty minutes earlier in his main lab, what he liked to call his 'Think Tank'. It had taken nearly five minutes to gain his attention, another five to convince him she was not there to listen to his latest vocal rambling, five more to layout what Kim had in mind, and then the final five as he merrily vented his amusement.

"Shego," he started, wiping tears from his eyes, "For four and a half years you've belittled my plans, some of which have admittedly been less than well thought out, and now you come to me with _this??"_ He chortled some more, "Woo, heh, that's a good one."

Then he noticed the even expressions of both women. "Ah, Shego… you _are_ kidding, right? Having a little fun at dear old Dr Dees' expense?"

"Oh yeah," the woman flipped back, "Just like I was kidding about going to rescue Kim Possible from a Global Justice manhunt… oh, _waiiit…,"_ draping a rather familiar arm across the teen's shoulders, "Apparently I meant that!"

The blue man turned his scarred gaze to the redhead, almost pleading, "Thirteen hundred? Really? All at once? You can't be serious!"

Pointing to her determinedly set expression, a visage that still tended to make his sleep uncomfortable, Kim replied, "Note. Serious face."

"Nngghh, ehhrrr…," Drakken fought to keep his concentration on the moment and not get lost in the hundreds of other trains of thought criss-crossing through his enhanced mind, most of which admittedly were idle foolishness but several gems would still rise to the top. At times it was difficult to do, and why he rarely slept when he needed to keep a scheme on track. "I cannot help you Kim Possible."

"But Doc!"

"Nnahh!" he held up a hand, his other behind his back. "I'm onto something here, and the Brain-sponge project requires further contemplation and research. I can ill afford a diversion. Not in time and energy, or split resources in terms of equipment or manpower for such folly." He turned back to the sprawling computer terminal and the simulations he had compiling on the massive screen. "I'm sorry, but I am in this business for my own evil purposes. Besides I need to determine if I'm going to stay in this lair or not," he looked back over his shoulder, "the lease is up this month, y'know."

"See here Doc…," Shego growled, igniting her hands. She started to take a step towards the blue villain when she felt something that stopped her completely. She looked down in surprise.

A hand.

Kim's hand.

On _her_ hand.

Her _plasma enshrouded_ hand.

At it's weakest, the woman's comet-granted power was hot enough to bring water to an instant boil by immersing a hand. It got exponentially hotter from there. However, unless she tossed it in blasts, the plasma's heat effect was contained within her aura two to three inches of her skin, from which the initial ionic gases seeped.

At the moment the woman was ready to lob some stinging burns, little more than what she termed as 'love zaps', at her employer to make him reconsider; even so, direct contact with her power would be more than enough to create instant third degree burns.

Yet… .

_She talked about it. I've seen the tape. I saw it briefly in the lounge. But this is my first real good look at it._

Not having moved from where she was standing, still glaring at Drakken, Kim held the woman back by the simple method of, without looking, laying her hand atop Shego's to gently push it back to her side. Which would not have been noteworthy but for the destructive green energy roiling about her fist.

What made it even more noteworthy was that the teen's arm, up to her elbow, was glowing a ruby color only a few shades different from the Wegos' own glow. In fact her brothers were the only ones since the comet-strike able to do this, their glows countering her own. Part of her seemingly anti-social attitudes actually stemmed from her need to always maintain firm control of her emotions and state of mind. To prevent lighting up accidentally. So the woman rarely let people that close to her, literally or figuratively, which curtailed much in the way of romantic or intimate opportunities for her.

_But if I no longer have to worry about that with Kimmie…,_ Shego mused, dousing the green power and letting that line of thought drift off for now.

Out of survival reflex, Dr Drakken had turned the moment he heard his Chief Enforcer's threatening tone, so he too was staring in awe at the incredible sight. He gulped as he realized his former nemesis might have just saved his, well not _life_ exactly as Shego hardly ever truly hurt him, but certainly his dignity for the moment.

"Don't bother Shego. He has little reason to do more for me." Kim's glow had dropped as well. She spoke directly to the mad scientist, though her glare belied the words, "I appreciate what you've done for me so far Dr Drakken. Shego and I'll find another way to get it done."

"Nnnn! Weren't you listening?" he tried to tower over them, but it came off more as listing to one side. "I can spare neither manpower nor equipment. That includes Shego and any transportation."

"Oh no you don't Doc!" Shego retorted, "As of right now I'm on vacation."

"You can't do that Shego!"

"Oh yes I can!" she advanced on him again, only this time without powering up. She jabbed his chest with a finger, "And I will! You owe me like eleven months worth of time off, and I'm taking them right now!"

"All eleven?" he protested weakly, bending backwards over the console to escape the thrusting digit. _Good Lord, if she were to light that thing up my heart would be toast! _"All at once?"

"You'll just have to wait and see!" Shego snarled, "I'll be back when I'm back!"

Spinning on a heel Shego stormed away, snagging her maybe-girlfriend's hand and dragging her towards the door, "Come on Kimmie, we can just use the Go Jet," she snarled. "That's one hundred percent mine."

Trying to keep up the teen felt like a little girl again being pulled along behind her mother and a little off balance. "Go Jet?"

"You'll remember when you see it," the enforcer snarled. "I used it when I tried to nab Nakasumi-san fourteen months ago." She paused in the doorway, "And another thing Doc! Consider this the start of my two week notice! I'll let you know on my return whether or not it's for good!"

The doors closed on Drakken's panicking voice, "Now let's not be hasty Shego! Shego? Shego, surely you can't mea… ."

"I remember it sure, but 'Go Jet'?" Kim fell into a hop-skip motion behind the angry woman in order to avoid being dragged as they made their way towards the elevators. "As in your Old Team?"

"Yeah. That and the suits were the only things worth keeping when I left."

"Shego," The blue villain's voice rang out over the loudspeakers. "I may have been a little hasty Shego. Shego? You know I think of us as an evil family, these little misunderstandings happen between families…, Shego?"

The woman paused by a wall intercom and punched the button, connecting into the PA circuit instead of making it private, "Cannit Doc! I'm off to help my girlfriend!" The whine of feedback fought its way to life.

"Girlfriend?" both parroted, Kim's eyes as wide as Drakken's voice was loud overhead. She smiled slyly, lids half closed, _If Ron had ever shown this sort of take charge attitude, he might've gotten hisself some._

"Ah… errrm…," the circuit clicked off PA and his voice was more manageable. "I… I guess… congratulations are in order? Well, this does change things slightly. If this is true then let me be the first to welcome you, Kimberly Ann, into the evil family!"

Shego snorted, looking at Kim and rolling her eyes while making 'woo hoo' finger circles in the air. The evil genius continued, "Tell you what Shego, take the month and if any of the henchmen wish to volunteer their time, they may do so but not in uniform. If any of you get caught, you're acting on your own."

"Very generous of you Doc," the woman responded sarcastically into the intercom. "What about the equipment?"

"You may use anything we have on hand, but I'm a tad behind on the accounts payable with most of our suppliers. Can't use the expense accounts."

Green eyes locked, one set questioning, the other nodding assent. "Alright Dr D, but the two weeks stand until I decide what I'll be doing."

"I'm sure we'll work things out, we are after all an…,"

"'Evil Family'… yeah yeah 'Daaad'," she exaggerated the word, "…so you keep telling us. Out." Then she punched a new button combination and the loud speakers rang out again:

"Attention all hands, I need a show of volunteers in the conference room in ten minutes for a mission briefing. Pilots especially needed. Compensations will be spelled out then. Shego, out."

* * *

The small black and green hypersonic aircraft cut its way stealthily through the night sky and the stratopause, the layer which defines the bottom limits of the stratosphere. The cockpit was lit only by light green glows emanating not only from the gauges but several strategically positioned glow panels strictly for supplementing the low illumination. In this lighting the pilot's pale sickly green skin was washed out, making her seem albino.

Positioned across her eyes were the goggle-like lenses of a ranged targeting system. When another system beeped in confirmation, she swung the unit aside and up, reaching out to flick several toggles. The low vibration of twin _hushjet_ powerplants died, replaced by a barely heard whistle of the rarefied air on the craft's skin.

"Right on target and in the groove, five-by-five. Release point in two minutes." Shego looked down between her breasts and legs at a face the light ironically made green, "You sure you're ready for this Princess?"

"No big," came back the easy reply. The cockpit was only designed for one occupant so the two women had to squeeze in. Thus Kim was turned backwards, her legs straddling the pedestal of the pilot's seat, her shoulders tucked under the woman's knees, and her face positioned with a rather closeup and intimate view of Shego's crotch. She looked up into the eyes of the woman she was considering more and more her lover. _Damned if I know exactly when that happened. Still, at least I did say it out loud…,_ "I've dropped plenty of times."

"Not like this Cupcake," Shego lifted her eyes back to the HUD, Heads Up Display. "We are cruising in a Mach two glide at twenty-three-six-oh-oh feet. That's the thermal inversion layer where the highest coldest layer of the tropos and the lowest coldest layer of the stratos mix. On the plus side we are shielded from radar and satellite thermal imaging. On the neg, without that thermal suit and oxy-supply you'd develop hypothermia and possibly black out for several minutes. And straight down is only a ninety second freefall."

"Really, I'll be fine," Kim lightly tossed back. "Though I must say the scenery so far is lacking for variety."

Shego grinned wickedly down at her, "Best get used to that view Kimmie. Win or lose, I plan for you to see it a _lot_ more often…," if the teen blushed it was lost in the lighting. A _beep beep_, "One minute to drop zone"

"The rest know their parts?" the teen looked up. It was that or keep looking straight ahead… .

"Don't worry about them Kimmie, Thirteen is in charge and she is highly competent. I'm considering making her my lieutenant."

"Amazing how often that number has been popping up tonight."

"Play it in the lottery."

"Right, like they would payout to criminals."

"Then if it hits we steal it."

"And you know your part?"

"I got it already! Will you stop worrying?" _beep beep_. "Thirty seconds, get into position."

The redhead nodded and while Shego shifted her legs, Kim eased herself down. At the base of the chair was a space between it and the outer fuselage's bottom access portal. She shimmied herself into the space. The green woman had previously explained how the hawkish Go Jet, originally designed to ride docked atop the larger Go Plane, could be accessed in-flight by means of the chair elevating through its bottom. A bottom access for which Shego had defeated safety overrides to open mid-flight.

"Fifteen seconds." came the warning. "Remember, hold your breath, hitting atmo at Mach two will feel like hitting a brick wall."

Kim double checked that her hair was fully tucked into her helmet, the full-face breath mask properly seated, and gear in place. She tapped Shego's ankle in confirmation. Laying on her side the girl tucked herself into a tight fetal ball. She breathed in and out rapidly before letting it all out, like a swimmer, holding her breath.

"Five…, Four…, Three…," a slight catch to her voice, "Good luck Princess."

The access panels retracted aside with the speed of hydraulics. One moment they were closed, the next open. Kim was sucked out instantly.

The inversion layer known as the stratopause hit her like a high-board belly flop into an iced-over pool. Braced as she was, like when she hit the top of that train, Kim did not see her now instinctive protective glow snap on the second she left the safety of the Go Jet. However this time she _felt_ it. _Gotta remember that, so I can practice calling it forth._

Having started counting automatically, Kim worked to recover and stabilize herself from the initial shock of hitting the freezing air at such speed. While the ball she was still tucked into tumbled she forced her lungs to work normally, pulling in shallow amounts of oxygen from the small supply. With the count of twenty she uncurled herself into a head-down posture, freeflying with limbs pulled in tight and straight. Or rather, a relative head-down as her velocity and trajectory actually served to rifle her into a more or less flat arc towards her target. Like a human missile, a flesh and blood projectile, she sailed through the night while the laws of physics battled to level her out into a _settling velocity_.

Shego had carefully calculated and triple checked the figures, for despite the size of the destination, at the distance the teen was to cover in the next hour, some six hundred miles, it was nonetheless a hard target to hit.

Akin to throwing a quarter into a jukebox coin-slot from across a crowded room.

Yet it was also an extremely exhilarating and intoxicating sensation for the new supervillain, topping any thrill she had encountered in all her brief years as a hero.

_Colorado, here I come!_

* * *

BTW, in regards to last chapter and Malina's Team Orchid, let me explain that I _do_ have great plans for Ron in this feature, but in addition to chronicling Kim's descent into Evil I'll also be exploring how a Kim-less Ron views his place in the world. He will need time to _Face Up, Shape Up, _and _Step up._

Plus the final memory fragment Kim is missing has what I hope to be a surprise regarding the couple that will indeed cement them on their separate paths. Hopefully I can craft it so that it remains a surprise.

In the meantime Dr Director and Global Justice, indeed nearly everyone including himself, will be overlooking Ron's capabilities. To that end "many shall be called" to stand against Kim Possible, and Malina just one of them.

Just remember that this is Kim's Evil World and everyone else just squirrels trying to get a nut… still it's not going to be _easy_ for her, or else we all be dooooomed… LOL…

Also, let me know if you'd like to see Malina and Co spun off into their own Kim-less adventures someday.


	10. Foul Play Foreplay

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Ten –_ Foul Play Foreplay_

"Five…, Four…, Three…," a slight catch to her voice, "Good luck Princess."

Shego hit the safety over-ridden release for the Pilot's Ventral Access Port, immediately pulling back on dual joysticks and giving them a slight twist before closing the hatch. The nose of the Go Jet rose, lifting above it's previous flight path as braking flaps fluttered momentarily. After a couple of seconds she leveled it back, the maneuver having dropped her airspeed by all of maybe one foot per hour.

A small amount on paper, but gliding at Mach two, enough to fall a respectable distance behind the still tumbling scarlet glowing ball that was Kim Possible.

Shego once again double checked the numbers, relieved to find everything still within tolerances. She was less than sanguine about the plan as the redhead had outlined it, but once the teen put her mind to something there was never a way to talk her out of it. Child Psyche and Development degrees were not needed to know the problem was while nearly all youths have an innate sense of being indestructible, Kim had a subconsciously heightened awareness of it as time after time she beat the odds to survive through the impossible.

Proving so hard to kill she might as well be untouchable, invulnerable.

Shego reflected on the very first time they had crossed paths, _It took her all of what, ten maybe twelve minutes to destroy the lair? _She remembered the ease with which the teen had used a compact mirror… _a three inch compact!_… to unerringly deflect several lasers. A feat that literally required the redhead to correctly anticipate where the speed-of-light beam would be before it even fired.

_And she did it without even breaking a sweat._

Watching as her rival-cum-partner unfurled from ball to missile, glow abating, the green woman could only marvel. At moments like this it seemed as if the teen was genetically incapable of fear. _You'd never have gotten _me_ to do this, _she mused,_ and I have comet-powers. Hell, I doubt even Hego would be foolish enough to try! Mego maybe. Or at least his 'me-ego' would certainly be up to it, if not his courage. _Kim pulled ahead as she presented as small a drag profile as possible.

It was one thing to perform a High Altitude Low Opening jump from this height, in fact military HALOs were regularly performed from four to five times higher. However it had never before been attempted at supersonic speeds with a target zone over six hundred miles away. Not being jet powered, within about twenty minutes the teen would slow to a _settling speed,_ a form of terminal velocity, that would nonetheless see her traverse that distance in fifty-eight minutes. Fifty-seven now.

_That's HALO to the _freaking_ extreme._

The woman entertained a mixture of pride and fear. Fear that this time might prove the exception to the girl's penchant to emerge unscathed, pride because she could not help but think, _She's mine now. That's _my_ girl, and she can do anything!_

_Even love me… ._

For two minutes Shego chased behind Kim until, as convinced as she was going to be that the former hero would be alright, she banked the gliding aircraft away hard, climbing on velocity alone as there were no thermals to ride, until she pulled into her new heading towards Canada. The woman restarted the engines, ready to kick them into a burn for Mach four-point-five once she was satisfied she was nowhere near her girlfriend.

Not simply for safety concerns. They were far enough apart there was little chance of injuring or even startling Kim, but since she was about to hit an acceleration that would light up any active radar and satellites looking in that direction it was imperative they not be able to back track and somehow spot the free-flying teen.

As unlikely as it would be to spot such a small, non-powered, non-metallic object, tempting fate should always be avoided whenever possible.

As the _hushjets_ rocketed the black and green jet higher and faster, Shego turned her thoughts from Kim behind her and briefly ahead to what Kim outlined for her to accomplish. _Thirteen had better not screw up!_

Settling back for the short high-speed flight, she smiled as her mind wandered back two hours prior… .

* * *

"…assemble in the hanger in sixty, and remember this op is plains clothes! Nothing that can implicate Dr D," Shego called after the twenty-three hench people who remained once the basics were spelled out as they filed out, leaving them alone.

The raven-haired woman smirked remembering how shocked all had been to find out the PA announced "girlfriend" was actually Kim Possible. She also noticed how Thirteen had been the center of a sudden flurry of money flowing in her direction. _Don't know if I should chew her a new one or applaud her sense of opportunity. _

_Aw screw it, I'll just hit her up for a cut of the proceeds._

"What are we going to do for an hour?" asked the redhead, still standing in front of the room's main tactical screen. A map of the US Central Midwest and lower Canada behind her, football-like scrimmage lines superimposed.

The green woman sneered lasciviously, "We, Pumpkin, are going to get sweaty."

Raising an eyebrow at the remark, the teen blushed. _Score!_ Shego crowed internally, _She's still got her core innocence! Great! Means I can still have some fun needling her._

Shego…," she started, cheeks still burning. "I mean, the kiss was fun and everything… ."

"Relax Kimmie," the woman waved her had, "I meant a bit of sparring."

If anything the correction made the flush spread across her entire face, "Oh…, heh heh, right."

"You know," smirking, she rose and again grabbed the teen's hand, leading her out the conference room door, "loosen up some. Plus, I'd like to see what your new power is like."

"Oh, of course," the redhead tried to recover. "Not that I know all that much about it… ."

A few minutes later found them again on the women's residential level, this time stopping at the green door the girl had taken note of earlier. _Figures, her obsession with her signature colors are downright predictable._ The black-haired woman waved a glowing hand in front of the small light switch-sized plate set in the wall and the portal slid aside.

"Like the Go Tower," Kim remarked.

"Yeah, okay, so the suit and jet weren't the _only_ things worth schlepping along," Shego grinned as she gestured for her to follow. "You know, had anyone suggested as recently as last year that I'd have Kim Possible in my freakin' bedroom… and not be trying to kill you… I'd have burned him a new asshole."

"Last year, huh?" The teen stepped in, "And here I thought you've been pinning away for me for some time now… ." As the door swept shut she tried to take in the room, but as _everything_ was green or black, she had to blink several times before her eyes could begin to separate things. Walls, ceiling, and nearly all of the furniture was black with jade trim or highlights. A queen-sized bed sat to one side, its olive green quilt blended so well with the color of the deep pile carpeting that it seemed contiguous with the floor. There was more, like a desk, shelving, a personal fridge, and a TV or monitor. However they only came to view if she tried to focus on them, which the singular color scheme seemed to resist in addition to threating her with a headache.

"Don't get too full of yourself there Princess," Shego drawled while digging into a wall closet. "Exactly how long I may or may not have been 'pinning away' for the Great Kim Possible, or exactly when I realized it is not something I'm quite ready to share with you yet.

"Here, put this on," the pale green woman tossed her something black. "You'll find it most comfy if you're commando."

Catching it, the teen discovered it a one-pieced garment that was in fact only _mostly_ black with some lines of green. With an askance look at her so-called girlfriend, she decided to accept the advice. Shrugging out of clothes she only realized were not her own when the memory of stealing them on the train returned, she stripped to skin.

"Day-yum."

"What?" Kim turned, reflexively clutching the garment to her front.

"Oh, nothing," Shego rolled her eyes to the ceiling in mock innocence. "Just that you look better than I ever imagined," eyes dropped back as she smirked, "and I can imagine a lot. Though I hardly dared imagine _this."_

"What?" the teen asked again.

"Not just you in my bedroom," the woman gestured to indicate the girl and surroundings, "but you in my bedroom, _naked."_ _There's that blush again! God, I hope she never loses that._ "I mean, one kiss and you strip. Talk about an easy date."

Blood flushed Kim from cheek to cheek…, she turned to avoid the intense gaze and rapidly don the outfit, …to cheek to cheek. In quick order she had on what looked like a baggy pajama version of the woman's outfit complete with feeties, except all black with only thin pin-striping of green to define the harlequin pattern. She tried to close the front edges which appeared to work like a zip-lock.

As the teen struggled with it, Shego sighed and stepped up, "Really Princess, it's the same as my spare uniform that one time…, oh, right. I dressed you since the mind-controlled command didn't include teaching you how…," verdant fingers found the closure's starting point at her pelvis and traced the line defined by the crossover flap. The suit's edges sealed virtually seamless.

Kim watched carefully for future reference, "And all I remember from that was staring straight ahead at peeling wall paint." Looking at herself in the mirror she saw how the suit hung way more loosely on her frame than on Shego's. Or from that time in Peru. "I don't remember it being quite so… roomy."

"Yeah, run your fingertip around the circumference of the control button on the collar," the woman instructed. "It's like a MP3's click-wheel. With practice it'll feel like practically one motion."

Once done, the suit rapidly snugged itself skintight, like a bag vacuum-sealing. _Keeping my body fresh!_ "Okay, I remember _that_ sensation. It did seem like one step before." The woman steered her in front of a full-length wall mirror the room's severe scheme made invisible until something passed in front of it.

Kim modeled, nodding approval as she twisted and flexed. _At least the green is downplayed._ "Much more comfortable than last time. Far less binding."

"That's because I was only ordered to put you in it, so aside losing the shoes you still had all your clothes on underneath." Shego handed her a couple of items, "Here. Belt, gloves, ankle pouch and soles."

Kim lifted a foot to check the soft bottom, "They're separate why?"

"For practical reasons," Shego loosened the girl's suit with a practiced rub of her thumb, then squatted to demonstrate how the half-inch thick accessory was applied. She nodded for Kim to do the other. "First, the bottom of the booties wear faster than the rest of the suit and the cost of replacing the entire thing adds up. Good, now re-_thwip…_ ."

"'Thwip?" interrupted the redhead even as she reactivated the control at her neck. Waggling her feet she found the new bottoms firmly attached.

"Most of us were kids," Shego shrugged, "'Thwip' is not only the sound it makes snugging, but 'thwipper' was as close to 'zipper' the Wegos could say." She smiled at the long-off memory. The twins were her favorite brothers and at times she missed them dearly. "They were only four at the time, so it came to mean 'suiting up' to all of us.

"Anyway, have them in place when you thwip-up and they're good to go," she shook herself back to the present.

"And the other reasons?" the teen prompted.

"Second, there's a good dozen different treads for different applications including, and get this, _suction cups!"_

Kim giggled, "Let me guess… Hego?"

"In one Cupcake. Good guess." Still squatted, she affixed the ankle pouch.

"He always struck me as too into the superhero scene. Reminds me of Ron and my cousin Larry. I mean, comic book much?" she added while putting on the belt. It hung loose on her hips, a style she preferred with her old mission utility belt, but after a glance at the green woman's and careful consideration, she tried the collar control routine on the buckle. It too _thwipped_ tight.

Shego stood, "Tell me about it. Still, all-in-all it's a reasonably sound idea and I'm ashamed to admit that on a couple occasions I've actually used the suckers. The magnetics and aqua-fins have come in handy from time to time, and while I flatly refused to wear the four inch high-heels, I did try the wedges a few times."

"I see this is not exactly your normal uniform. Have you been hiding a cousin with a black Go glow?"

"Nah, don't be silly. This is my old stealth catsuit."

"Stealth clothing? You?" the girl cocked an amused eyebrow.

"If you must know, it was actually reverse-designed from a line of short-lived action figures. Mine had a stealth and nurse's variant, plus a few others."

Kim looked at her, eyes blinking rapidly before hugging her stomach and doubling over, "Bwah hah haha haha ha!" She fought to speak, "A nu… nurs… _nurse??"_

The woman grimaced, "Yuck it up Possible." She failed to keep from grinning, "Yeah. A green and white micro-mini dress complete with red-crossed cap."

"Bwah hah haha haha haha haha ha! Please tell me you still have it!" the teen was nearly in tears.

"Don't know if I'm gonna tell ya _now,"_ Shego sniffed she grabbed Kim by the shoulders and steered her for the door, "Besides, time is slipping away and I still want to put you through your paces."

A few moments later found them in a small gym at the end of the corridor, on opposite sides of a tumble mat, the teen kneeling to insert a four pound weight in the pouch on her left ankle. "I've always been meaning to ask… why do you wear it here?"

Doing little hops while pinwheeling her arms, the raven-head responded, "Most people assume when they tie you up that because it's way down there it's of no use to you. Add that they're often too lazy to remove it… ."

"You're not totally deprived of whatever useful items you have in it," Kim finished, standing. "Okay, but how is this weight useful?"

"Balance practice," Shego did some in place spinning kicks. "You'd be surprised how having one leg heavier by even half a pound can seriously mess up your dynamics, thus the weights, though you really don't want to carry that much on a regular basis."

"But if I can adapt to four pounds, I can easily carry less." A statement, not a question, as she struck her ready pose.

Shego slipped into her own stance, "Exactly. Now, are you ready or shall we do another round of twenty questions?"

The redhead moved first, going at the woman low and fast. The weighted ankle nearly caused her to stumble the first couple of steps but Kim was nothing if not a fast study and by her third was recovered. She dove and planted her hands for a leg sweep pivot.

Which the enforcer had little trouble countering. _Not fast enough! She's not putting her best effort into this… like we're just friends sparring…,_ Shego leapt into a lateral spin over the teen's sweeping body, coming out of it with a firmly connecting right hook to the jaw. She landed on her feet while the other tumbled face first into the mat.

"What the hell!" Kim snarled, rubbing blood from her lip. She sprang to her feet.

Resting a hand on jutting hip, the older woman snarked back, "'What the hell' is right! What was that Kimmie? Playing games? Can't keep up? I _hardly ever_ got a punch in like that before.

"You know better than this, what with thirteen styles of kung fu under your… ."

"Sixteen." the teen glared, double checking her lip without taking warier eyes off her supposed girlfriend.

"Even less of an excuse! Any of your sensei's let you get away with less than one hundred percent?"

"Nothing short of one hundred twenty… ."

"Then why are you giving me shit now? We may just be sparring, but if you're to remain razor, you need to not think of it _as_ sparring. On this mat I'm your enemy," she smirked, "or better yet, a female for mating that needs be conquered into submission…

"…and I don't submit easily…," she finished evenly.

"Stubborn bitch much?" Kim took a step to the side, which started them circling each other.

"And then some," nodded the pale green woman. "Only, I think for us I prefer the analogy of cats. A lot of spitting and clawing until one comes out on top, the other pinned down, her neck firmly held by a mouthful of teeth… ."

"Funny how that describes most of our battles…," the redhead reversed her steps and thus the direction of the circling. "…you've always been a mouthful…," her face set in the determined expression that Shego knew and loved best.

"Foreplay, dear Kimmie…," _and it's been making me wet for years…,_ "It's been our own personal mating dance for a long time now." _Damn, I'm glad I didn't say that out loud… . _

"So you admit it's been a while now… s'that why I've always come out on top?" Kim taunted back. "Been waiting for me to claim you as my prize?" A small evil grin quirked her lips, "Perhaps clamp my mouth on something other than your neck?"

"Do your best and maybe see," Shego squelched a shiver of passion, "Cupcake."

"Oh I shall, Cricket, I shall…," came the easy and even response.

"Cri…?" Shego started in surprise but the redhead was rushing again, in the same way. _Sloppy!_ Anticipating hitting the girl harder this time, the raven-head duplicated her counter only to find a heel impacting her chin instead. _"Oufff!"_

At the last second Kim had levered herself out of the leg sweep into a handspring, left leg extended. This time it was green and black hitting the mat hard. Shego flipped back to her feet, giving her own mouth a blood-check. _"Much_ better Pumpkin!" she grinned, launching into a back-spinning _savate fouetté_ high-kick. "I take it 'Cricket' is another attempt at a nickname?"

Nodding while blocking with raised arm, "Like it?" _The banter,_ the girl thought, _That's what's been missing!_ "'Cause you keep making noise!"

"Don't know, it's a new one on me…," Shego continued her spin, following through with the other knee, "…but strangely enough new has its appeal…," which Kim ducked by falling into a 'backwards crab', leaving her entire front wide open, "…so I'm willing to give it a try…," their long hair crossed like swords as the woman reversed her torso to drive an elbow into teenage abs, "…after we finish the op."

They both collapsed on the mat. "Meanwhile keep working on that list."

Kim lifted left knee to meet left elbow, but the woman's head was no longer between. Both sprung upright.

"Where's that glow of yours Kimmie?" taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It, y'know, comes and goes," the redhead bounced on the balls of her feet, not yet winded despite the blow to her abdomen. She flexed it off. "Seems to have a mind of it's own."

"No good," the raven-haired woman rejoined, rushing in at mid-height, arms wide, "You must have complete control of all your tools and skills…," she stepped into a top-like spin, fists igniting, "…or you're bound to get burned!" Unlike any of their previous battles she did not pull her empowered punches.

Kim barely had time to bring up her right arm to block even as her entire body flashed its brilliant crimson glow. Sparks flew as the rapid one-two contact occurred. Shego continued to cartwheel herself, bringing both legs up in successive kicks that, while sparkless, nonetheless were met with the resistance of a brick wall. Like a rooted tree, the teen was barely rocked.

"Oww oww oww oww‼" Shego danced painfully, shaking out pain from wrists and ankles. "Damn Princess!"

Kim relaxed and the glow abated. She started over, concern on her face, "Are you okay?"

With a wordless growl the woman launched into a flurry of kicks, punches, sweeps and every conceivable combination of elbow and knee strikes with everything she had, her plasma fully alit.

The redhead's protective ruby glow snapped back to life like a skintight armor. The small gym filled with the sound of their efforts and rhythmic breathing as Kim shook off the initial shock of the suddenness of attack, instinctively matching its speed and ferocity to counter everything the enraged woman threw at her.

After a few moments the redhead stopped simply blocking and began to press for her own attack. A full eleven minutes the two skirmished about the small space, no quarter sought and none given. The fight left the confines of the floor as they bounced, leapt, and swung from anything including walls and any surface which might provide an advantage of superior ground. Everything in the room came into play as a weapon or block. It was as if they had been thrust back in time to one of their earlier battles, enemies again. The Bermuda Triangle Casino flashed briefly to Kim's mind as they proceeded to throughly trash the gym.

Green and red glows intermingled and if estrogen had a machismo, the room overflowed with it.

Throughout, behind the angry masks on both women, their eyes were alive, shining with a brilliant light. Their entire beings alive and very much in tune and aware of the other. They felt the vibration of each other's motions, could hear breathing, the slight crinkling of the catsuits, the crackling swoosh of Shego's power. Plasma burnt items smoldered acridly. They smelled the sweat, felt perspiration fly. They got to the point where they could move with their eyes closed, so in sync were they.

They could sense the other's heart beating. Their arousal rose from them like a tangible thing, a third entity in the room unto itself.

In their own unique way they were making love. _A Foul Play Foreplay._

Finally they stood in the middle of the wreckage of the gymnasium, back where they had begun, green and red glowing hands locked as they wound down to a simple struggle of strength. While not exactly new for them, the fact that Shego's hands remained engulfed in her power was. Always before she had been very careful not to so engage her alluring rival so.

Slowly the higher reasoning of both returned. "Not bad Cupcake," Shego praised even as she hooked her heel behind the redhead's, taking them both to the floor herself astraddle, hands still locked. "I've never been able to cut loose like this with you."

Fingers still interlocked, olive eyes glared back, "When have you ever held back?"

"You're joking right? Think about it. Hmm, remember Project Phoebus? The brain booster?" the woman prompted, "In the underground bunker? I _cut_ a length of titanium railing _loose_ that you _immediately_ use to block me, still lit? Hello? _Really??"_

The realization slowly dawned behind the teen's eyes as she quickly reviewed several of their encounters. How the enforcer would press her with fists burning plasma one moment to only extinguish them a second later when grappling actual hand to hand. _Sure if I only had her by the forearms…,_ "You've been protecting me? Pulling your plasma punches?"

"Let's just say that it wouldn't've been that much of a challenge." she snorted, "You could dodge the longer ranged blasts but that close wouldn't've been sporting…, wha?"

Still under her, still grappling, Kim was smiling. A wide, shit-eating, brightly cherubic smile that danced in her eyes as well. "Now I have an idea of how long you've been checking me out!"

"What? No…," slightly taken aback.

"Such chivalry deserves a reward…," Kim suddenly let her elbows unlock, dropping her arms flat to either side and bringing Shego down nearly nose-to-nose with her. Lifting her head the former hero kissed her former enemy once again.

Not as long as before. The moment Shego relaxed her hold either in surprise or compliance to the act, Kim sent them rolling across the pockmarked mat to come out with the raven-head face down, the girl on her back; a hand on the back of her head, the other forcing an arm up between shoulder blades. Her entire weight pinned her, ruby glow consolidating to hands and forearms.

"What was that about conquering and submission?" Kim purred as Shego struggled under her.

"Lemme up and I'll show you!"

"Mm Mmm," the teenager leaned down closer to the woman's ear, bringing more of her weight to bear directly on the neck and head, "Until I can exact those _five words_ from you, and even after, I need to know that I have your devotion. In everything."

"Dammit, I've already told you how I feel!"

"Yes," breathing into her ear, causing shivers to run down both spines, "you love me. But love comes in many forms, many flavors. I need to know if yours includes an undying devotion to me."

Shego ceased her struggles and doused her power. She blinked as she considered. "What, do you mean like your puppy dog _doofus?_ Follow you anywhere blindly?" _Damn, still can't touch that fully until she remembers on her own!_

"Mm Hmm, only different. Ron was my best friend all my life. He proved himself long before becoming my _boy_friend," _Now _I'm_ using that same inflection. But I can't really call him my _lover,_ now can I? Is this… _Shego…_ why I never really clicked with him beyond window-dressing displays of affection? Beyond what was publicly expected of a dating couple? Had I been subconsciously responding to my secret attraction to Shego?_ "You're coming from a different and unexpected background. To be fair we both are. Until two days ago I never considered being anything but a hero. One of the Good Guys. Two weeks ago I never _seriously _considered being anything but straight. A heterosexual.

"Now I find myself switching one side and possibly another," Shego grew very still beneath her, almost holding her breath. "If I'm to do that, I need to know it's real. That it'll last, 'cause if there's one thing I've learned from my many failed attempts at relationships is that I am no good as a follower.

"You however, my dear Cricket, seem to thrive as a second." Kim let that hang for a few moments, observing the side of the pale green face in front of her. Watched as it softened. "I don't expect you to be like Ron, a doofus," Shego noted what the teen just said regarding her former sidekick, "I expect you to be my partner. My supporting partner. In everything."

"What about your 'evaluation'?" the eye Kim could see swiveled back to look at her.

Kim chuckled lightly, "This is a part of it as well. I did say 'where we go from here'."

"ooyy."

"What was that?"

"Okay," the woman whispered, but as close as they were it was more than loud enough. "Consider me conquered. I give you my love, my submission, and my support."

"Come what may?"

"Hell or high water." Shego nodded, swallowing lightly, a light sheen of perspiration that had nothing to do with their exertions on her forehead.

"Good! You know I don't say things lightly, right? I'm good at my word?"

A simple nod.

Still keeping a firm hold on her, Kim leaned even farther, bringing herself face-to-face, nose-to-nose with the pale green woman. Olive eyes locked. "Then know this Cricket, I accept your love, your devotion, and return it fully."

Shego's slightly Asian eyes went wide. She hardly dared speak, to breathe. "Yo… you do?"

"I do. This session drove home to me exactly what I feel for you," the redhead nodded, "How truly matched we are as a pair, body and soul. It took me thirteen years to admit my feelings to my doofus, it's only taken me four to admit them to you.

"I love you Shego. Be mine." Kim kissed her again, longer this time than both previous times combined. Shego responded, haltingly at first as if not daring to believe it was happening. Then she returned the passion that Kim poured into it.

Neither knew exactly when the teen released the woman, yet as their positions shifted on the mat, their embraces intertwining, both knew they were bound by so much more.

Outside in the corridor a large group had collected during the ruckus of the sparring. All kinds of wagers had been laid as to the outcome and now money was exchanging hands in all directions, but it was a broadly smiling Thirteen who raked in the most from her grumbling fellow henchmen and women.

* * *

Notes: I'm running late this week because of the holidays… so sorry! I don't know if I'll be on time in the coming weeks, but I'll leave updates as to how I'm doing in my profile by the "Now Serving…" section come any Saturday after a missed Friday posting, Okay?

BTW, I received permission from DestiKim on Deviant Art to adopt his Kigo2 outfit as Kim's future permanent costume, only Blood Red instead of green. Thanks DK!

Shego's nurse's variant was designed by Levelord on Deviant Art, and used with his permission. Thanks LL! Only change being one of her shoes will be green. While I don't expect Shego to don it anytime soon, someone else on Kim's coming staff will be donning it in the future. Probably in the WPS sequel.

Other Shego variants, like the Stealth, are mine unless stated otherwise. Speaking of which if anyone would like to suggest variants for the Shego Action Figure with which we can join Kim in needling her about, you will receive mention here, with permissions agreed upon in advance.

Oh, and other soles as well… ::smirk::… Gots ta have sole…

Also, if you haven't already, check out my non-WPS universe fic, Totally Tara!

See you next time!


	11. Word Problems

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Eleven –_ Word Problems_

"TWENty-sevEN minUTes THIRteen secONDs E-lapSED tIMe," called off the neutral gendered robotic voice in Kim's ear in response to her keying the appropriate control in her left glove. The next key resulted with, "TWENty-nINe minUTes fORty-THRee secONDs RemainING."

_I guess a watched pot really doesn't boil,_ the redhead remarked to herself. After the first ten minutes she had been activating the vocal readouts every few seconds.

Sailing along through the night sky for nearly the past half hour, she actually had very little to do but to but keep her body rigid, arms held against her sides and legs straight to present as little drag surface as possible, and keep an eye out for obstacles. Which at approximately eighteen thousand feet above sea level in a flattened hyperbolic arc with a _settling velocity _of some six hundred thirteen miles an hour consisted primarily of weather balloons and commercial airliners. Of which there was bound to be at least a couple in her trajectory from where Shego dropped her above the middle of California, having flown in from across the Pacific, leaving Kim to pass over parts of Nevada, Arizona, and Utah on her own before making it into Colorado.

While the elapsed time was accurate, the remainder was only estimated. For exacting numbers she would have needed a GPS. Problem being, though remote, such a device's satellite uplink _could_ be detected, in essence providing omnipresent monitoring applications the same information it would her. Namely exact positioning in altitude, velocity, and heading. For something so small and moving so swiftly, with neither discernible means of power nor registered flightplan, and not showing up by any cross-referential means such as radar or thermal imaging, it was a sure bet flags and alarms would have raised seeking acknowledgement and confirmation from human controllers. With the appropriate numbers a satellite could be trained on the exact coordinates, and while seeing a 'flying human' under high-speed ballistic conditions might generate surprise, it would _definitely_ generate a tactical response most likely in the form of a flight of chase planes dispatched to eyeball her.

They wanted to avoid that at all costs.

Had the teen simply executed a regular sky dive, even from the height she had, she would not have needed to hold herself as she had been in a true _heads-down _position. As the name implied she would have fallen head downward, her arms and legs easily held in place for the ninety or so seconds it would have taken for her to reach ripcord altitude. However, since she began this extreme HALO maneuver with a starting speed well over twice the speed of sound, her attitude was closer to being parallel to the ground and her flight lasting much, much longer.

Fact of the matter was, the combination of fatigue, boredom, and very little to see in the darkness was beginning to dull her senses, lulling her to towards sleep.

"TWENty-sevEN minUTes FIFty secONDs E-lapSED tIMe…, TWENty-eigHT minUTes TWENty-tWO secONDs RemainING."

_Ahhggg‼ Endless!_

Despite assuring Shego she would remain eyes-wide, Kim closed them in order to evoke a meditative state. Centering herself she took her time, setting triggers for rapid wakefulness by such things as sudden changes in light levels, sounds, or anything that might disturb her physically. Then as she had done hundreds of times under the tutelage of sixteen masters, she proceeded to submerge further and further into a light and restful trance.

As she sank deeper, in her mind's eye a corridor with many doors took form. Puzzled with a symbolism she had never before encountered during this exercise, Kim approached the first. Trying it she found it firmly locked. Moving on to the next the teen found it sealed off from her as well, as was the next and the one after it.

Finally Kim found one somewhat looser than the rest. It rattled and actually jiggled in the frame as if only held by swollen jambs. Putting her shoulder to it a couple times, she was able to force it open.

Bright sunlight flooded from the portal. Shielding her eyes Kim tried to peer inside but could discern nothing past the blinding brilliance. Instinctively she knew what she needed to do.

Kim stepped through the opened door… .

* * *

…and the moment Kim had stepped through, the muffled sounds of the approaching helicopters grew louder and sharper overhead, as did the roar and rhythmic clacking of the train underfoot. The locomotive blared its horn, which she had heard several times before when used for the timing of her break from Lemon. This time a farther off horn sounded as if in answer to a mating call.

Closing the door behind her, Kim sidled to the edge of the platform. Carefully she peered up. _Yep. Global Justice markings alright,_ she confirmed of the midnight blue aircraft, _I wonder why they're holding back? Not that I'm ungrateful, but by now at least one should've attempted a rooftop la…, _both her thought and sight were briefly cut off by a passing overpass.

The redhead blinked. From the depths of her brain floated a map of the area that she had memorized since gaining her Drivers License. It mattered not that Lemon County was one over from her home county of Middleton, the redhead's driven personality demanded that once she started learning the roadways she might herself travel, she _had_ to continually expand the circle, familiarizing herself with more and more. From that mental map came several important tidbits.

She was currently headed in a southeasterly direction and Middleton lay the other way, though as the crow flies, or rather as the rail lay, they would cut through the adjacent Ebert County. The _United Pacific Railway_ paced _US Highway 247._ There was a series of overpasses accessing the highway across the railway and, unless she had missed any, that was the first of a series of a half dozen close set, with the widest overpass second to last.

_And the opposing train is coming!_

Kim picked up her pace. Stepping across the three inch gap between the platforms she moved to the next car, opened its door, and moved inside. Another full load of passengers looked at her with frightened and wary expressions.

_Three days ago they'd have been relieved to see me… ._

"S… se… see here now," started a man in a conductor's uniform, squeezing his way in with a row of passengers to clear the aisle. "We don't want any trouble," he nodded, indicating the car behind her. Apparently he had spied some of what had happened. "You'll get no trouble from us here."

Sculpting a hard expression on her face, the redhead nodded and proceeded past the fearful faces. As promised none attempted to impede her in any way.

With the next blink of sunlight she picked up her pace into an easy jog, her sense of balance finding no problem with the gentle rolling of the flooring. She passed into the next passenger filled car, the same gazes telling her that the message had already been delivered there too. Perhaps the entire train by now. The third car was a sleeper and the path still clear.

The horns near and far sounded again, only the other was notably much closer. Kim broke into a run, clearing the next sleeper before the next overpass. _That's three,_ she counted, _one more before the big one._ The next two cars were diners, the second with a bar, and even here all the passengers and stewards shrank clear of her, with only one tough looking goth girl with spiky green-hair staring hard enough to set off Kim's internal alarms. Keeping her transfixed with the harshest glare she could muster, the redhead willed the other teen to remain seated, which thankfully she did.

As Kim passed the bar a tiny motion at the corner of her eye caught her attention even as the next overpass briefly dimmed the car. _Ah hah! _You_ I can use!_ With a snake-quick motion she whipped out her right arm, snatching up the offender without significantly slowing, causing the nearby people to flinch away in fear. She grinned evilly at them as she continued on. Before reaching the far door the teen had reached behind her left ear before casually tossing away whatever she had in her right.

Pausing in the opened doorway she turned, "No one," she affixed the watching crowd with her coldest, harshest, and evilest glare, "is to come through this door. _Is this understood?"_

Nearly all nodded and varied assents overlapped themselves as she shut the door.

Once more between the cars, she glanced up at the dozen or so Global Justice helicopters holding their distance. She could see the sides of several open, boarding parties already rigged for bungy _hot descents_ waiting only for a stretch free of obstructions. _I'd've made the jump already, _she smirked, _but then, I don't have to answer to tax-payers and Safety Oversight Committees, now do I? _

Unhooking the north side safety chain, used to prevent passengers from casually walking off while the train was in motion, Kim wrapped it about the door handle, securing it in case someone _did_ feel like ignoring the order. Then the redhead backed up to the far side of the small platform when the horns sounded again, challenging each other like rams for dominance, the northwest bound one nearly on top of them. Pinching off a large amount of Izzy's miracle mystery mass, and once hands thickly gooped up, she readied herself.

Concentrating, the newly criminal teen focused her senses and narrowed her perceptions, closing off all distractions and tunneling her entire world into the north side of the car's platform. The rhythmic clacking and motion of the rail's passage underneath faded into a low soft background sound, as did the roar of the passing wind and the _thwup thwup thwup_ of the GJ aircraft.

Dropping into a sprint ready pose, she steeled herself to _see_ only one thing, _hear_ only one thing, _know only _one_ thing…,_

_If an express commuter train leaving the Downtown Denver Metro Area travels non-stop in a southeasterly direction at a speed of ninety miles per hour and a second, leaving northwesterly from Cheyenne Wells, also traveling at ninety-plus miles an hour, were to meet thirty miles southwest of Lemon Correctional Facility…_

The horns blared once again, Kim's ears only attuned for the other one. Moments later they were plunged into darkness courtesy of a six-lane highway overhead, the sudden absence of the sun's brilliance making it seem nearly coal mine black. A river of light formed of the other speeding train's windows flared in her vision.

…_how fast is their combined speed as perceived by a crazy redhead…_

Kim poured her entire might into her legs and feet, kicking off like a spooked jackrabbit to dash the short length of the platform and launch into the darkness.

…_wishing to switch from one to the other midstream without being seen by the authorities seeking to apprehend her after a daring daytime jailbreak?_ Kim forced her body to remain upright and flat, hands forward, fighting back the natural impulse to pinwheel arms and legs. _Don't try this at home boys and girls! _

_Even if you _do_ have a pair of full-sized trains in your living room… ._

She hit the side of the other train harder than she had the top of the first. While the super-adhesiveness on her hands kept her from bouncing off, she nonetheless found herself rolling rapidly along the outside, flipping front-to-back like a sticky toy down a windowpane, as first her palms and then back of her hands came into contact with the glass and metal surfaces. She was banged and battered by many minor protuberances along the side of the car, normally overlooked by most when simply walking past it when stationary.

Finally the gap between cars arrived and she was flipped in. Working to recover her wits, the intrepid teenager clung to all that she could grasp to avoid ending up going off the other side. She spilled hard onto her butt like after a gym routine gone bad, blinded as the train left the overpass behind.

_Answer… goddamn hurts like hell‼_ Kim puffed at strands of errant locks of hair fallen across her face. _And they say there's no practical use for math word problems in the real world!_

Peeking cautiously, she smiled with satisfaction as the flight of helicopters chasing after the 'Wild Goose Express' quickly drew farther in the distance, troopers in the process of their _Hot Drops._ Knowing GJ… Will Du especially… they would spend _hours_ futilely tearing that train apart looking for her.

She laughed, _Sooner find the Easter Bunny!_

* * *

Kim opened her eyes, blinking them, jerked out of the memory by one of the meditative triggers she had put in place.

_Sunlight? Daytime already?_ the redhead was disoriented, _I'm supposed to arrive in the dark… ._ Indeed she was free-flying in clear daylight, the sky a rich blue and nearly cloudless. She keyed the left hand controls.

"THIRty-fIVe minUTes TWENty-tWO secONDs E-lapSED tIMe…, TWENty-oNE minUTes tWO secONDs RemainING." _Only about seven minutes… Ahh…,_ Kim finally realized what had happened.

While she would in fact arrive at the target zone in the dark wee early morning hours, her current altitude left her high enough that the sun found her first as it crested the curvature of the Earth. It might be a little past four-thirty in the morning on the ground below her, _and that should be the Grand Canyon down there too. Shame I can't see it. This would be a _spectacular_ view…,_ but for her the dawn had come early…

…_and glinting off something reflective or shiny directly ahead of her!_

At over six hundred miles an hour it was bare seconds before the commercial airplane, a Boeing 717, virtually filled eyes widened behind the full-face mask. Passenger airliners travel at speeds between five hundred to five hundred seventy miles an hour, depending on if they are battling a headwind or being pushed by a tailwind. _From the way I'm gaining on it, _Kim thought,_ a headwind._ The redhead was coming up from behind and above the craft and, figuring she had at least a hundred miles an hour on it, gaining rapidly.

Reacting without thought, purely on instinct, Kim spread her arms and legs. The rushing _relative wind_ filled the three wing surfaces of her wingsuit, sending her into a roll to the left and seriously threatening to completely destabilize her flight.

_If I lose it at this speed, this close…, _she had no time to complete the thought. The roll rifled her like a bullet, forcing her limbs closed again. She had a dizzying view of sky, ground, sky, ground, sky, **plane**, ground, sky, **plane's tail**, ground, sky, **plane's engine**, ground, sky, **plane's wing**, ground, sky, **plane**, ground, sky, **plane**, ground, sky, ground, sky, ground… .

So intent was she in keeping her stomach under control, she spun several more times before realizing she was past the aircraft.

Slower this time, the teenager eased open first her legs, allowing the membrane between them to catch and ensure that she was tail-stabilized. Then by small increments she gently opened her arms. As the air and _relative wind_ grabbed at her, the corkscrewing roll slowed, then finally stopped. The brief maneuver cost Kim in overall velocity and altitude that she could not regain, and thereby pushing back her estimated time of arrival. However they had anticipated such contingencies and thus calculated her ETA for earlier than needed, so she figured she was still good.

_Wow… way close…, _Kim folded her limbs back against her body as she proceeded to leave the commercial jet behind.

…_I wonder if they saw me… . _

* * *

"Nice night so far Rog," the Captain mentioned casually.

The younger man to his right, his co-pilot, nodded noncommittally while continuing to doodle on the notepad affixed to the center of his 'stick', "Yeah, Doug. Well, what do you expect of a Red Eye?" The early morning flight to New York with stop-overs in Denver and Go City had just momentarily crested into 'dawnlight' but would soon re-enter dark as they would soon begin their descent towards the Colorado capital.

At a quiet yet insistent chime the first man looked to his left, "Coming up on the change-over from McCarran International to Denver… Confirm please."

Roger grunted and reconfigured a screen center right of the instrument panel. At a _two-two_ tone, "DEN has us…," then a repeating _one-two_ tone which he silenced, "…and LAS has handed off. Denver, here we come," he smiled.

_FffwwhhooopphhFFffff‼_ Something flashed past the windshields and on ahead.

"_Holy shit!"_ Roger jumped. "What the hell was _that?"_

"I don't know," the older Doug was calmly sipping from his mug. He had not even flinched. "But what it _wasn't, _was a girl flying faster than us."

The younger man was trying to stand in his seat as he observed the black-clad teenager stabilize out of a roll while still pulling ahead of them. "Are you _kidding?_ It most certainly _was!"_

"Roger." Doug remained unflappable.

"Yeah?" the co-pilot turned wide eyes to him.

"What is our airspeed?"

Roger sat and pulled himself together as he found the gauge purely by drilled-in habit. "Five-oh-four-point-two-oh."

Doug nodded. He could see the gauge as well as the repeater on his left. "How fast can a human fly unassisted by any powered devices?"

"Uhm, I don't really know… I guess not nearly that fast."

"If at all," Doug placed his coffee mug back in its holder. "Roger, how many times have you tried for PIC?"

"Seven."

"Do you have it yet?"

"You know damn well I've been turned down for Pilot-in-Command each time!"

"And what do I keep telling you?"

"To remain calm, keep my cool under pressure, don't get excitable, and above all stop reporting UFOs," the co-pilot partly mumbled.

The captain nodded as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Taking his time he deliberately folded it with a smart crease before laying it back on the small serving tray along with an uneaten half of a tuna sandwich. "So, did you just now see a teenaged girl fly past us faster than we are going?"

Roger stared at him incredulously, extended his right arm pointing out the center windshield at what he was most definitely seeing leaving them behind and started to speak. No words came forth as he thought about it, his brain finally clicking on what the older officer was saying and catching up. Slowly he dropped the arm to grip the steering column with both hands. Softly, "I guess not."

"Good lad."

* * *

Working to recenter and calm her nerves from the near miss, _Why do they call it that? It was a 'near hit', not a miss! Miss is a _good_ thing…,_ Kim satisfied herself that nothing else was in her way and settled back, the few minutes of meditation, not to mention the recent adrenalin surge, having alleviated her fatigue. She actually felt refreshed. The redhead turned her mind back to reflect on the restored memory, no longer needing the trance-like state to finish reviewing it.

_I wonder what was going on back at the prison during all that? I thought I heard Ron and Monique… ._

* * *

A knock on the door of the co-opted Warden's Office heralded the arrival of Ron and Monique, ushered into Dr. Director's presence by a pair of burly Global Justice troopers. "The detainees as requested sir."

The stern-faced one-eyed woman looked up from what she was doing and waved them in. "Mr Stoppable, Ms Lapowski…," she gestured at the chairs in front of the desk. "Please have a seat."

Ron and Monique shared an uneasy glance.

"Just to avoid any confusion on anyone's part," Betty said almost pleasantly, "that was _not_ a request. Sit." The woman studied them as the two teens shuffled in. Ron bumbled a bit in trying to be gentlemanly about offering the first chair to the girl.

"SIT. DOWN!"

They quickly planted their butts as if a game of musical chairs when the tune stopped, which was apropos as the room remained silent for long minutes, Director simply giving them the Evil Eye over top the monitors arrayed between them, her hands steepled. The blond looked everywhere but at the military leader, occasionally tugging at his collar, while the girl examined her feet as if seeing them for the first time. Their actions only exaggerated when she cleared her throat.

"What have you done with Rufus!" the boy spoke, "I insist you return him immediately!"

"Your pet is safe Mr Stoppable. Ron," Betty started again, the kindness in her voice never reaching her gaze. "I shall admit that when I first saw you earlier I found your presence… coincidental if not outright suspicious. What with the tip that Kim was going to escape and all, I'm sure you can see where my line of reasoning was going."

Ron beamed nervously, "That I was here to see my wrongfully incarcerated girlfriend?"

"That you were here to _help,"_ she accused evenly. "It has well been documented your role in Kim's missions mainly involve your ability to act the distraction."

"I thought the Ron Factor Project was a bust," he frowned slightly.

"It was a failure only in our ability to duplicate and reproduce the intangibles you brought to Kim's successfulness," she corrected. "That you _did_ provide an unquantifiable element was never in dou… Arrgh‼" she broke off, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "You're doing it _now!_ Distracting me from the topic at hand!"

He smiled smugly, "It's, y'know, a gift."

Shaking her head Betty turned to his companion and her glaring eye increased intensity. Like she was watching someone grow a second head in front of her. "Ms Lapowski. You are an even greater mystery.

"You were not in the car with Stoppable. You _never_ signed in at any check point. _No one_ saw you until you were _well_ inside restricted areas of the prison. You didn't even show on any of the security cameras until that moment." Her lips curled in a smile that never reached the rest of her face. "Care to explain how you managed that?"

Looking up from her feet, head still down like a petulant child, she spoke softly, "Lucky?"

Betty's snort sounded louder than a bull looking at them over a shaky red cape. The smile turned upside down, suddenly fitting the rest of her expression perfectly. "Hardly," she provided. With one hand she spun one of the flatscreens to face them. She keyed something in front of her and the screen flicked to life.

With a sinking feeling, the pair looked at it, fairly certain they knew what was coming.

It was a video of the two of them in the holding cell they had just spent the past half hour in. The angle of the view indicated the camera somewhere in or near the ceiling. Ron did a fist-pump, "Yes! I knew you were watching!" He shrank back as the woman re-glared at him.

"Ron! What are we going to do?" screen-Monique was saying.

The boy was reclining on the flipped down wall-cot, entirely calm and collected. "Relax Mo'. We've been in far worse situations that this, and that was like the bad guys holding us."

"_You_ Ron," she shot back pointedly. _"You've_ been in far worse situations! _Not me!_ The only 'we' you're referring to is you and Kim. Your GF and my BFF… and unless you weren't watching, she just _left us behind!"_

She paced back and forth like a caged lioness, her arms gesturing wildly. "My mom's going to _kill_ me! Kill me? She's going to have to _cover_ the story! Do you have any idea how mad she'll be if she has to report on _syndicated news networks_ how her _own daughter_ was _arrested_ for _aiding and abetting_ the escape of the Great Kim Possible, alleged murderer… _murderer_ Ron!" She slapped her arms against her sides, "Murder, that's what it'll be… She'll kill me and then _cover it‼_ Mom'll look into the cameras and say, 'Good evening, I'm Tricia Lapowski and I killed my daughter for making me look like a damned fool on national and syndicated television. News at eleven.'"

Ron choked on a guffaw, trying to stifle it. The dark-skinned girl glared at him, hands on hips. When he could talk, "I'm sorry Mo'… It's just that, you nailed your mom so well… ."

"Yuck it up ya goof! How am I going to explain how I managed to worm my way into the middle of a prison yard during a riot?" As that line was delivered on the screen, over it Dr Director's lips quirked and eyebrows raised in agreement as she continuously studied their reactions. Screen-Monique continued, "I mean it's not like I can just say, 'well you see I get these vi-_mmppff."_

Screen Ron had leapt up to clamp his hand across the girl's mouth. "Ixnay… ixnay‼" he hissed, looking around, "You can bet they're watching and listening to everything we sa… ."

"As you're aware, nothing after that was of any serious import to this discussion." Betty killed the playback, turning the monitor back around. "That however answers nothing while leaving plenty more questions.

"Ms Lapowsky, care to finish that last sentence?" Betty's piercing scrutiny was made all the more terrible for having only the one eye.

A blank look momentarily crossed the black teen's face before she sheepishly tried to sink further into her chair, "No ma'am, not really."

Knowing what he now knew of his friend, from her expressions Ron surmised that she either had a long-ranged vision, or tried to use her short-ranged sight. From her demeanor he figured whichever it was, it wasn't good for them… her… now. Knowing she wanted to retain her secret at all costs, he started to speak but without looking in his direction Director held up a hand to stop him. She maintained that intense reptilian stare on Monique, who squirmed in her chair like a six year old in need to potty.

"'I get these vih…' is what you said Ms Lapowski," the woman finally spoke, inwardly impressed with the girl's fortitude to not crack completely. _Impressive for one so green and untrained._ "I have to wonder what the rest of 'vih' is."

Monique started to sweat.

"I don't like mysteries Ms Lapowsky, and missing words cause me problems. I loose sleep over word problems."

"Dr Director, you can't treat her like this!" Ron protested. "She has rights!"

Again without turning her eye from the caramel-skinned teenager, "I assure you I can Mr Stoppable. Global Justice is chartered by the United Nations and holds to no one nation's laws while upholding them all. In this case as we are on American soil and you both American citizens I am empowered to invoke the Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act of 2001. You may know it as the USA PATRIOT Act." The eye never wavered. "In situations like these it grants duly recognized law enforcement agencies, such as Global Justice, nearly unilateral powers of discretion.

"In other words, _you have no rights."_

Even Ron shrank back. _Whoa, and these are the good guys?_

Director made a show of picking up a printout. She let them see the four columns of words in small print on it. "The problem is, there are thirteen hundred and eighty-eight possible words that begin 'vih'." She leaned closer across the desk, never wavering her soul-breaking stare.

_Fuck,_ was Monique's sole thought.

"Of these thirteen hundred words," Betty tossed the page aside as if no longer of consequence, "taking into consideration the context of the conversation and the events referred to, there is one word that rises to the top of the list with a veracity of eighty-seven percent."

The girl sighed. She had used her gift and had already seen every potential outcome to the conversation. Still she was _not_ going to be the one to say it aloud.

"_Vittles!"_ Ron blurted out in an attempt to help her, "She was going to say she gets these _vittles!_ Girl's always gettin' hungry, isn't that right Mo'?"

"'Visions' Ms Lapowsky," Director ignored the boy, practically crawling across her desk. "'I get these visions' is what you were going to say, were you _not_ Ms Lapowsky?

"The only way you could have gained so deep an infiltration into Lemon penitentiary before anyone becoming aware of your presence is if you employed some sort of precognitive sight. Is that not _so_ Ms Lapowsky?" Had a laser beam flashed from the woman's eye to burn into the cowering black girl, neither teen would have been surprised.

Finally Monique nodded and dropped her head, defeated and deflated.

"Well then," Betty Director sat back, her body relaxing even as her face remained just as intense. "You are aware that in response to your actions here today the Patriot Act allows me to toss you both into a cell, toss away the key, drop the entire thing in a pit, fill it in with concrete…, and walk away. Yes?"

Ron could only stare with wide eyes and gulp. Monique simply nodded.

"Then I'm glad we understand each other.

"As of this minute you are both going to help locate and bring Ms Possible to ground, or so help me I'll find the deepest pit for that cell, and have it dug twice as deep."

* * *

Notes: Yeow‼ I hadn't planned to keep Monique on the firing line… but in storms this one-eye harp… ::looking off page:: …lovely and decent woman waving the PA in my face and takes over the interrogation…, Sorry Mo', I was going to keep it a secret, really…

As for Monique's last name, I chose an established canon KP character to be her mother. Tricia Lapowski is the black TV news reporter seen in several of the episodes. I figure they look enough alike to be mother and daughter…

I'm giving fictional names to many parts of Colorado, the accepted state for Middleton. However they are also somewhat _close_ or _similar_ to actual and real life locations… so if you _want_ to… you _could_ do some research and _possibly_ find where I'm implying these locations to be. What the hell? Homework? Yep. Evil Kim wants to know, and she ain't gonna duit, dun'cha'kno…


	12. Winging It

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Twelve –_ Winging It_

Thirteen was nervous.

On the one hand, she had been earning more and more leadership roles lately which indicated she had come to the Chief Enforcer's attention. Which meant more and more responsibilities and larger percentages of the profits, stock options, and raises. Eventually she would get her own suite in the larger lairs.

On the other hand it also meant she would be on the receiving end of the easily irate woman's ire should she perform less than competently, and that was not a fun place to be. Her hair-trigger temper was legendary.

On the other hand if the past day was anything to go by, the Enforcer might be mellowing out now that her love life was taking an up turn. Not that any ever dared say it in her presence much less to her face, but all of Drakken's henches had for a while been in agreement that Shego needed to get laid. Like a carpet. Flat across the floor and to all four corners of the room.

On the other hand said lover was _Kim Possible_. Not just_ The _Kim Possible_,_ but an _evil_ Kim Possible if the plan at hand was any indication, not to mention the murder charges and breaking out of prison. All of which only meant that any hot seats just got hotter cause that teenager was Scary. With a capital 'S'… and that was when she was _Good._ Plus she had Shego backing her as well. Double Scary.

On the other hand as tough as Shego had ever been, Kim Possible had been unbeatable. That promised that for anyone hooking their rockets to the pair of them together the sky would no longer be the limit.

Gripping the control yoke of the Mi-27 with both hands, _Running out of hands here…,_ the woman known only as _Henchperson Thirteen_ banked the large military-grade helicopter to avoid an outcropping of rock on the left wall of the winding gorge she, and the flight of five behind her, was navigating through the dark with nothing more than the skills of the night-vision goggled pilots between success, failure, and the sparse riverbed only yards below.

_I screw this up, I'll end up wishing I _had_ crashed and burned into a fireball at the bottom of this chasm,_ the strawberry blonde reflected even as she jinked the nine-bladed aircraft the other way. It had been a nerve wracking seven miles with only one more left before they would be too far inside the plant's radar for them to be able to raise any effective form of alarm.

"_Watch it Helix-Three,"_ the voice of the forth helicopter's pilot called on the comm channel, _"You left sparks on that last bend."_

"_You try it see if you can do any better Helix-Four." _

"_He did, Three,"_ from Helix-Five, _"and was spark-less." _

"Can the chatter," Thirteen said into her microphone. "'Scrambled frequency' doesn't translate as 'undetectable'. By way of check, acknowledge then clam it."

"_Helix-Two acknowledging, One." _

"_Three, Got it Helix-One" _

"_Four, Sorry One" _

"_Five, Understood One." _

"_Helix-Six, scenery never changes for the last dog, Helix-One." _

Thirteen smiled grimly as the channel went quiet again. As this mission was strictly off-the-clock and thereby not governed by Union rules, the green woman was able to flatly turn away those she deemed totally incompetent. That left out of the rest only her and twenty-two others that opted to volunteer. It was risky and all for the enforcer's girlfriend, but the compensation was worth it: One week of Shego's back-vacation time with a full-day pass to one of the spas she frequented around the world. Those spas were pretty ritzy and well worth it on their own. The henchwoman could not speak for the rest, but she saw a larger opportunity here. Getting in the good graces of both Shego _and_ Kim Possible? Not to mention being in on the ground floor of their budding relationship?

_Priceless._

_Beyond_ priceless.

The sides of the chasm were losing their height, lowering down to meet the river's level and indicating that they were reaching the target zone. She broke radio silence, "You know the mission and your targets. Six, commence jamming… engage."

With that the conga line of Russian-made helicopters veered off formation as each came clear of the diminishing rocky walls to rise over tripled razor-wired security fences, the center one electrified, of Skybus' Airliner Production Facility. Helices Two and Four headed for the Control Tower while Three and Five went to cover the main and rear gates, leaving Six to circle the compound with, but counter to, her to determine if anyone was active on the ground to report or perhaps cause them any difficulties.

As a couple of henchpeople rappelled down lines from Helix-Two to gain the catwalk outside the upper tower, a brief burst from Helix-Four's nose gun took out the main communications router box which would include the land and satellite telephone lines, cable, and Internet connections. _"Facility is now 'dark',"_ the pilot declared on their secured channel. _"Starting clock until blackout is investigated at fifteen minutes… Mark." _

"Okay," Thirteen added, "you heard the man. We've got fifteen to complete the grocery list and checkout before the doors close."

"_Main gate and guards secured,"_ reported Helix-Five.

"_Tower secure,"_ from Two.

"_Rear gate secured,"_ added Three with a chuckle. _"A couple tried to make a run for it. They won't get any great resale value on that Humvee… ."_

Helix-six, _"West side ground's quiet."_

"Concur with ground east side," Thirteen said with a smile. This was shaping into one of the smoothest ops she had been involved with. _Maybe there's something to be said about disregarding the Union's Equal Opportunity guidelines and leaving idiots out of the mix._ "Good job ladies and gentlemen. Nine minutes to secure the goodies and get out."

"_I've located what 'the ladies are craving' Helix-Six,"_ came one of the tower raiders._ "Big hanger in the southwest corner gave birth to a bouncing single-class configured baby just last week. Already had its tires kicked. Test driven and everything._

"_And two hangers over to the west be the rest of our list… ."_

"_Sweet,"_ someone else called, _"I can taste the mar-gar-itas and se-ñor-itas already!"_ Celebratory laughter and other raucous comments were bandied back and forth.

As all choppers but hers converged on the indicated hanger, she keeping an eye on everything with a lazy spin, Thirteen snapped across the channel, "Keep your heads in this game people! Stay level and sharp. Remember who you'll have to answer to in the event of any screw-ups. And trust me, I know all your numbers. I _won't_ be going down alone."

Somber affirmations crossed the radio even while two of the craft landed and the rest of the teams slide down lines. They scurried to work, one gaining a tow tractor and backing it into place, another few commandeered a heavy forklift to head for the other hanger, while others ran up the stairs to inspect the interior. Even as the A400 superjumbo aircraft was rolled out the team that had secured the tower rolled up with a couple of fuel trucks.

All under the watchful eyes of Number Thirteen. _So far, so good,_ she mused. _If this outlandish scheme works as planned, we'll be pulling off the jail break of the century! Strike that. Ev-ver._ She shook her head in quiet amazement. _Hopefully Dr D is wrong and Kim Possible _is_ all that!_

* * *

Passing overhead of the aircraft assembly facility, Shego was only in range long enough to catch Thirteen's _'…ambled frequency doesn't translate as undete…'_ warning before she was past. At four and a half times the speed of sound she was lucky to have gotten even that brief snippet, and only because she knew the exact spot and frequency to overfly and listen to.

That, plus the scrambler code.

The verdant vixen smirked. _Yeah, Thirteen's definitely got potential. Gotta keep both eyes on her. She just might start thinking about setting her sights on my job… ._

Ten minutes at Mach four-point-five found her slowed and circling a supposedly secret RCMP research compound a little over five hundred miles away from her crew at Skybus. _Really, what's the use of being a 'secret anything', if you can find it on a hackable online database?_ Setting the Go Jet's twin _hushjets,_ already quiet as they were to an even stealthier mode, she slowed it into a rather wide gentle orbit about the mountaintop location. Releasing a cable and allowing it to spool out, the weighted end drifted down and towards the center of the circle. Using night-vision goggles, she adjusted the craft's course until the centripetal vectors had the weighted tip of the cable in a smaller lazy twenty-foot or so circle several feet above a clearing close to a ventilation access point the plans had indicated.

Shego sighed. Here was one of the downsides of being a pilot performing maneuvers that required complex calculations… she needed to know her exact weight.

There could be no room for white-lying to oneself.

Switching on the autopilot and locking her aircraft into its present course, she hit the jamming system before opening the pilot's ventral access hatch. Cool early morning Canadian air whistled through the cockpit, neither the altitude nor speed making a breathing mask necessary. Then she unlocked the seat so that it swung down in line with the seatback. Finding the top of the cable with crossed feet, she grabbed a zip-line trolley, in this case a hand-held grip-like device with a small but powerful built-in motorized winch assembly, and released the seat harness.

Dropping out of the Go Jet, the first few moments were actually a free-fall decent guided by her legs crossed at the ankles, giving her time to affix and then clamp the trolley to the line. Now able to uncross her legs she held tightly with her left hand as the device controlled her drop down towards the ground below.

_Mind if I drop in?_

She smirked as her skill proved itself yet again. The ten pound weight was enough to aid the cable's natural inclination to gravitate towards the circle's center more than had it not been present, but the course she had the black jet in was not enough to bring it to _the_ center.

_Her_ weight however… .

As the woman's hundred and forty-one pounds slid along the zip-line, the weighted tip wound in smaller and smaller circles until, finally at the very end she was in a rather comfortably lazy rotation perfectly in the center, two feet above the dew-laden grass of the wide clearing.

_Ho yeah, who da man?_

Dropping off easily, yet watching her head as the suddenly less encumbered cable whipped itself back out almost to its former orbit, the thief checked its timing then turned to complete the rest of her early morning's errand.

_After all, mustn't keep my Cupcake waitin'… . _

* * *

Kim was back into the darkness of night, even as the coming dawn was turning the sky a gentle barely perceivable blue. The rest of her trip had been uneventful, her close encounter with the 717 an isolated incident and long forgotten along with all the rest of the near misses in her life.

For the past nine and a quarter minutes the intrepid teen, having changed from her _heads-down_ attitude to the more traditional _arch_ position with limbs spread eagle, endured additional strain as momentum and gravity struggled to renegotiate a new _settling velocity._ Just as the Mach Two's initial _throw-forward_ starting velocity had bled down to a rather awesome cruising speed of six hundred and thirteen miles an hour, she was in the process of bleeding away even more, along with altitude. If the figures were correct, she was currently under a relatively _mere_ one hundred and eighty or so miles an hour and still losing fast. High enough yet that she was still not in a strictly speaking belly-to-earth attitude.

It was all really a matter of physics. Just a case of point-and-shoot and knowing the numbers. Of course all Kim knew was the theory, the point-and-shooting part. It was Shego's crunching of the numbers that was really bringing it together. _Maybe I should've listened better to Mr Barkin in Advanced Math, but who'd've ever thought it would've had any application in the real world? _

_Who'd've ever thought I'd be trusting my life to Shego? _

Yet that part, the snarky green woman at her side… on her side, _Or rather me on hers,_ simply felt… right.

_Natural._

Kim continued to count as the resistance of her spread-limbed form continued bleeding off speed in huge chunks. Like the palm of a giant in the process of slapping her hand from overhead onto a table, perhaps to swat a fly, she was quickly shedding forward momentum, the physics traveling her in an arching trajectory, inexorably reorienting her body relative to the ground.

From her point of view it was the entire world that was swiftly rolling up in front of her, the San Juan range of the Rockies giving way to flatlands. The dark patchwork quilt of farmland fields, scattered small towns, and roads empty of all but one or two sets of headlights rushed under and in front of her, and off to her left as she finished her mental countdown were the lights of… _Colorado Springs! Right on time!_

Thumbing a control this time in her right hand, the new criminal felt a small kick against her spine from her chute's CO2-based deployment system. For the purposes of streamlining, the wingsuit Kim wore had the chute built in and specially folded, rolled, compressed and tucked into a pleat along her back from collar to top of pelvis. Like the wings of a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, or even some cartoon rendition of secret angel wings being revealed, the silken material unfurled as the pressurized gas filled micro-channels throughout it's construction. The process hastened once it opened enough for actual air to take hold and complete it.

_Ffwwhhuupphhtt__‼_

The black parawing caught the air and put some real brakes on her airspeed while simultaneously drastically increasing her flight control. Pulling out a powerful yet compact flashlight, the redhead briefly inspected the dark canopy above her. She breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that it had indeed opened correctly. This was the major weak link in the plan. Parafoil style chutes were not as well designed as the classic round variety for opening under the stresses generated at terminal velocities, so despite the assurances of tolerances and tensile strengths of the Kevlar and other space-aged polymers utilized in its makeup there was a very real concern that the thing would fail or shred, and unlike normal skydivers, civilian or military, she did not have a spare, having sacrificed it for additional streamlining. So any problems with deployment would have put a serious kink in her day.

Sure the wingsuit would have prevented her from going splat, but with the velocities she had been playing with, in a straight line she could easily have sailed to New York and possibly well over the Atlantic long before she shed enough speed to attempt any sort of landing. _Would be rude to miss my own party… ._

However the wing had functioned as designed and would be able to easily convey her the final seventy-five to eighty miles to Lemon. Kim put the flash away and grabbed the control grips, making minor adjustments to ensure she remained on target using both compass and the scattered lights of the town waking up and cars indicating the major roadways two thousand feet below her. _That has to be Highway 247…,_ using the winding roadway as a guide the teen adjusted her heading accordingly. She unhooked her full-faced mask, breathed in deeply of the crisp Coloradan air, and settled in for the final eight minutes of her journey over flat farmland sprinkled with suburbanized communities.

She had an amazing view of the sunrise, again catching her before those on the ground due to her elevation. It was a sight she had seen many, many times but right then, with the wind in her face and the gentle rustling of the silken canopy above her, Kim Possible was able to briefly forget the events of the past two weeks.

_Don't you dare! _her inner voice chided._ That would mean that you and Shego would be back to being mortal enemies, back to dancing around the one plain truth you'd been studiously ignoring for years…,_ "I love you Cricket," she whispered out loud to herself, "Before you, all the little adventures I called missions were _really_ no big, but you stepped the game up, propelled me into the Big Leagues, kept me on my toes and made me feel _alive."_ She looked to her left where Ron would normally be. Whining or crying… _no, screaming…_ and generally fussing about some inane thing or another that only seemed to matter to his peculiar anxieties and skewed view of the world.

Instead, in her mind's eye the older more assured green woman quietly smirked back at her, Asian-influenced olive eyes shining with a light all their own. A light that had grown over the past couple years whenever facing her even if the rest of her expression appeared angry.

_A light I can no longer turn away from. Or live without. _

_Nor will I. _

_Ever again._

In short order Kim's target was in sight. The teen released herself from the parafoil, dropping several yards before again engaging the wingsuit's webbing to glide in over the same road and railways she had used in her escape from…

_Lemon County Supermax…, so we meet again. _

The huge square facility was strategically alit with lights on low power suitable for nighttime tranquility. The teen angled for the southwest corner tower where she caught the silhouettes of a pair of Correctional Officers, each manning a minigun inward and outward facing. Coming in low and head-on, the pair had no idea what hit them until it was too late.

_Heerree's Kim-mieee__‼_

In the last second, the teenager closed her limbs, tucking laterally into a roll that caught both guards at shoulder height, one with her feet, the other her own shoulders. At a firm mile an hour the slight hundred and eighteen pound girl packed what felt like the punch of a freight train. It rattled even her.

All three went down in a pile, the suddenly unattended miniguns swiveling to the limits of their mounts. The impact knocking the air from the men's lungs prevented anything more than muffled _wuuhffs._ Unfortunately for the redhead these two particular guards were built like brick houses. Though knocked off their feet they were far from taken out cold. The most level-headed one reached for a big button that Kim immediately pegged as _alarm._

While on the one hand Kim's range of movement was severely hampered by the airfoil webbing of her suit, on the other the confines of the tower severely hampered the men's range of movement as well. For the guards it was one of those Good News/Bad News situations. Like catching a cranky and rabid mountain lion in a cage but then realizing you were locked inside with it.

Clamping one hand firmly on the first guard's shoulder and planting her other against his sternum, the redheaded villainess levered herself lengthwise to catch the other man's outstretched arm between her feet. A three-sixty twist of her lithe form served to not only fracture the one's arm at the elbow joint, but to shove the other against the railing of the circular stairs providing access to the turret. She also felt the _snap snap_ of chest bone from both clavicles. Simultaneous strikes against larynges with heel and elbow prevented them from uttering more than a croak. As they choked painfully for air she had the time to divest herself of the black wingsuit and helmet.

"_Tower Three, is everything alright?"_ crackled the talkie-talkies at their belts. _"Thought we heard a disturbance up there."_

_Shit!_ Kim swore internally. It seemed swearing was coming easier for her as time progressed.

"_Tower Three."_

Giving each guard a quick inspection, the redhead chose the one with the broken arm as less out of it. Straddling his lap in a fashion he might have enjoyed from such a nubile young girl under other circumstances, she pierced the gasping man with a hard glare, his eyes going wide with fear as he recognized who she was. Snatching the radio's corded microphone affixed to his left shoulder strap, she grabbed his Adam's Apple with her right, her fingertips digging painfully behind it but also temporarily reinforcing the injured cartilage. She nodded at the stairs, then the radio, her threat evident in her green eyes.

"_Southwest Tower, respond!"_

When he nodded understanding she thumbed the mic for him. "Tow'r t'ree," he rasped painfully, only able to do so thanks to Kim's grasp, "Henries here. Nho d'sturb'nce… slip'd on th'stairs… hit m'chin'n'arm… cl'msy meh."

"_Damn Hen, you sound bad. Maybe now they'll put some proper treads on these deathtraps,"_ the voice replied. _"You headed to the infirmary?"_

At Kim's slow shake, "N'…, g'nna wa'k it'ff." She waved the device and mimed clicking the switch. "Lo'k, I'll jes' be th'mb'ng th'switch d'ring nex' copple ch'cks…, 'k?"

"_Yeah, sure thing Hen. You just file an incident report at end of shift so we can pressure the union for them stair treads, a'right?"_ Releasing the man's injured neck, the redhead thumbed the switch twice, still staring warning daggers at him as he resumed struggling for breath. _"Good thing. You take it easy, only another couple hours and we're done for the night."_ Another double mic-click and it went silent.

"Now see how easy that was?" Kim stripped him of the radio, keys, and his security ID swipe card, "Mind if I take these? Please and thank you." His eyes watched her fearfully. He knew her reputation, had been on one of the parapets the day she escaped, heard the reports of the injuries she left in her wake. He knew what she was capable of.

Now first hand.

Affixing the radio to the black with green stealth suit's belt and dropping the keys and card into the ankle pouch, she gave him a smile that her eyes made sinister, "Ready for it?" His eyes widened questioningly just seconds before she drove her scarlet glowing elbow hard across his chin, knocking him cold.

Easing his slumped body to the floor, she turned her attention to the other, more heavily stunned of the pair. Knocking him out as well, she used both men's belts and ties to secure their ankles, then their wrists behind their backs. The remaining mike cord she used to secure their wrists to each other then up around their necks. They would be unable to move without choking themselves. She also took the second guard's keys and swipe card on the off chance his clearances might be different from his partner's. With a glowing hand she crumpled the remaining radio and dropped it in the corner farthest from them where she also stuffed her wingsuit and helmet.

Without so much as a backward glance, she made her way to the cramped circular staircase, probably deliberately so in order to create a defensible bottleneck in the event of a prison-wide riot making it that far. Moving cautiously, the teen treated the infiltration the same as had she been breaking into one of Drakken's or Dementor's lairs. Laying on her back, she proceeded to ease herself down the helical access the several turns it took before coming to the next open level. Slowly she eased her head down to take in the corridor, coming out just behind a ceiling mounted camera taking in the length of the space, where another stared back from the far end.

After a few moments' study, she pulled back up with a devilish grin. She reached into the ankle pouch and withdrew a small clamp-like device. Lowering back down again, this time to her shoulders, the redhead reached over behind the camera to attach the thing to the main video feed cable. After ten seconds a light on it started blinking in an rapidly erratic fashion. Kim counted to sixty before rolling down the stairs to bring her feet back under her.

The small device, Shego assured her, was a 'viral video disruptor'. At their core, all electronic systems work on a series of binary code, ones and zeros, off and on. What the clamp device did was disrupt the electrical capacitance of whatever type of cable it was connected to in a preprogrammed fashion that the system interpreted as 'off' or 'on', and in thus manner deliver its programming to any corruptible chips in the system. Oh, nothing truly elaborate, not for the size of this particular transducer. All it did was induce a glitch which the video system would interpret as spreading power disruptions.

However, as much of a nuisance it was making for the surveillance cameras, it was no replacement for being stealthy so the intrepid teen eased along the sides of the corridors in search of her destination. At one junction she came up behind another CO, tall and slender like a whip, standing by a 'NO SMOKING' sign, half done with a cigarette.

At that moment the appropriated radio on the girl's belt crackled, _"Tower Three, quarter past check."_

Her eyes widened. As did the man's, having half-turned to look down at her, mouth beginning to open in alarm.

Acting without thought, as most of her sixteen martial arts masters had trained her to do, Kim lashed her foot out hard, booted toes catching the man behind his right knee. The joint crumpled with a sickening _pop_ and he collapsed in a twisting-to-the-right motion that brought him down close to the redheaded intruder. Both hands a blur, Kim clamped one across his mouth, abruptly shoving the still lit cigarette down a throat already drawing in air for a shout, her other whipping around to again crush a larynx.

The Correctional Officer's eyes went wide in panic as he slammed back against the wall and started a slow slide to the floor. Both of his hands dug at his neck as errant sparks from his bad habit flew from, then sucked back into, his gasping mouth.

Kim took a second to double-click the radio to acknowledge the check then turned back to the matter at hand. "Cigarettes kill y'know," she growled while yanking down on his neck and driving her right knee into his gut. "It's a bad habit…," the explosive exhalation it provoked blew the abused stick of tobacco across the corridor. "Let this be a lesson to you, and don't say I didn't save your life…," she finished, twisting his head just hard enough to induce unconsciousness. She took his set of keys and swipe card as well, and simply twisted the radio in glowing hands. _Ho yea…, just keep racking up the charges. Good thing I decided to switch sides… ._

The teen moved from his slumped form, there being nowhere convenient to place him out of sight, picking up her pace since it could not be long before he was missed and subsequently discovered. Coming to a series of gated sections, Kim drew forth the swipe cards she had collected. A light on the lock turned green, the barred door buzzing as it _thunked_ open. She did the same at the next, however she was barely through it when…

"_Hey Hen, Control says you're no longer in the tower. You okay?"_

Kim rolled her eyes as she double-clicked the response even as she picked up her pace in getting past the gates.

"_No Henries, I don't care if you _are_ hurting, you say something!"_ Kim clicked once for _No._ _"I mean it Hen, you don't use your mouth this time, it's _All Hells,_ and I mean it!"_ Sighing, the redhead ignored the voice and ran through the gates as fast as she could, only the last one lit up red instead of green and the buzz sounded a much harsher tone of denial. Tossing it aside she used the other tower man's card and got a green.

Since apparently the radio was only good for direct one-on-one connections and not the open channel setup like one might see in movies, Kim tossed it away with subconscious relief as its weight had been throwing her off a small amount. She broke into a run as her immediate target was now in sight.

The Control Room.

It was built like a broadcasting studio's DJ booth. Mostly glass if of the wire reinforced variety from the waist up, with consoles studded with video monitors, banks of recording equipment, and boomed microphones, at which sat three uniformed CO's. They were not looking her way but seemed to be arguing and fighting with the equipment, giving them whacks as do most people when dealing with problem electronic devices. They were agitated but silent, the room evidently sound-proofed. None of them saw Kim since she slid the distance she was exposed to sight as if into home plate. Moving to the lock by the booth's entrance, situated on a solid wall next to the door, the redhead swiped the second guard's card.

It buzzed in red-lit denial.

Knowing that they would be alerted now, she stood in front of the half glassed door and saw the three turning towards it in surprise. Having half expected the result, one tower officer compromised the other would be too, plus she already had used the man's ID away from his post, Kim had the third CO's card ready for swiping. The controllers' expressions went from surprise, to recognition, and then to smugness as they saw the card in her hands, not knowing it was different from the one they had just locked out of the system.

With an evil grin she made a show of swiping it, enjoying their dismay as it granted her access.

Like a whirlwind the teenaged villain exploded through the door and into the room. While the center-most guard made to speak into the boom-mic in front of him, one moved to draw his sidearm as the third spun to a rack of rifles on the wall behind her. Kim vaulted the console, legs wide in a split and caught the first in a way that her father would have surely disapproved of and she was fairly certain Shego would be jealous over. She squeezed her thighs together, locking his head in place so that he had trouble breathing. As her momentum carried them both over backwards with the chair, she let fly at the second with the swipe card in her hand, throwing it like a _shuriken_. He flinched, his right hand leaving his weapon to protect his face.

Barely overriding the temptation to twist her hips and thus snapping the first man's neck, Kim instead placed her left palm to his head and added to their motion by slamming him hard to the floor, then kicked off throwing herself bodily into the third. Nothing elaborate, just slamming her into the wall to momentarily stun the woman. Using that brief respite she returned her attention to the second, who was already again going for his sidearm. The teen took a pivoting step to bring her left leg up in a high-kick to catch him in the neck, crushing yet another voice box.

_Hope their union grants a group discount,_ the thought flashed through the villain's head. Since she was still trying to keep her opponents from raising any alarms too early, the blow was proving to be the most expedient of strike points, serving to simultaneously disable and silence, and while equally effective against women, its prominence on men just begged it a target.

However this particular CO was extremely large and cut, even more of a brick house than the first pair. Being a Coloradan herself, she was not surprised at the build of the born and bred farm boys, or that their stereotypical mental capacities lent them to careers in security and thus why she was finding so many of them this morning.

She was however, surprised to find this one shaking off the effects of the strike no matter how temporarily. His ragged breathing spoke of the accuracy of the blow but he was apparently one of those that either shrugged off pain or was too stupid to know it should hurt more. He managed to clear his weapon from its holster.

_Had you simply killed him,_ an inner voice whispered, _you'd not have to deal with this… ._

Shoving that thought aside, Kim re-cocked the extended leg to kick the hand with the gun hard against the wall, causing it to discharge into the bank of recorders. Still he retained his grip, bringing the Glock 20 back to bear. The woman CO had also recovered enough to grab and bring a shotgun to level.

Standing between them Kim resisted the temptation to just move out of the way and allow them to blow each other away. Instead she reached out with both arms, clamping a hand each on the slide and pump of the weapons. Shoving back on both forced each firearm to eject their chambered cartridges. She then spun without releasing her hold on either, pivoting herself out of the way but leaving them facing each other's barrels. The pair's eyes widened as they realized their strategically untenable positions.

"Let go," she said in an even tone, "or I shall, and you'll end up killing each other." Not exactly true. Her releasing her grip would only cause each weapon to chamber the next round. The triggers would have to be pulled to fire, but in the heat of the moment and suddenly facing the business ends of their partner's firearm, neither thought about it that hard.

They let go. Each weapon slid itself forward in her hands, chambering the next shells. Kim slammed the rifle butt in the woman's face while flipping the Glock into a better business grip on the man.

"You," she said to him, "had better stop moving your neck, my kick caved in your Adam's Apple, and if you don't keep it immobile you'll asphyxiate." Another exaggeration, but she banked on him not knowing otherwise and calling her bluff. "Sit down and be still until you get medical attention." Finally taking note of his ragged breathing, the man started to nod, then thought better of it and just slid his back down the wall to a sitting position.

Leaving Kim to turn hard eyes on the butch woman, now on the floor clutching her cut and bleeding forehead. What do you want?" the guard asked.

_To kill you,_ the voice whispered. "Oh no," the redheaded villainess shook her head in answer to both. "If there is one thing I've learned in my years as a hero, it's that expositions and monologuing is for suckers. Do I _look_ like a sucker?"

The woman shook her head, "No, you just look like a criminal. A killer."

Kim Possible smiled darkly.

"Then you best not make me mad, eh?"

* * *

Notes: I'm sure by now you're aware of the passing of Ricardo Gonzalo Pedro Montalbán y Merino (November 25, 1920 – January 14, 2009), having died in his home in Los Angeles, California at the age of 88, apparently from complications from his age. He was, among other roles, the voice of Señor Senior Sr. The KP community has been diminished with the silencing of this great voice. Please take a moment in tribute to him.

Once I remembered I had Google Earth at my disposal, I discovered that Kim's free-flight would have been closer to 880 miles and therefore another good 30 minutes longer. Ah well… sorry for that bit of inaccuracy, but then hey, Middleton and Lemon are fictional places, even if I'm trying to work close to reality, so lets just accept the numbers as published, eh? Or Kim may visit you in the middle of the night. You won't like that, just ask Henries…


	13. Cell Out

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Thirteen –_ Cell Out_

Kim spent the remaining forty-five minutes she had to wait securing the three Correctional Officers and going back to retrieve the one she left in the corridor, during which time she sent a text message to a number Shego had provided her.

Once back in the control room, and after trussing him up as well, she then had the woman get on the radio to tell the smoker's group not to expect him anytime soon. By pressing a gun to his temple, she ensured cooperation by making sure the woman clearly saw the weapon was live, loaded, and safety off. The teen knew from personal experience some people might take risks with their own lives, but rarely with those of others. Plus the distance between them ensured against any thought of surprise moves. Kim also had all of their ID swipe cards to ensure there were no attempts to tip anyone off through use of wrong names.

The uniformed woman did as instructed, telling the lone CO's post that at Control's request he had been sent to check on Henries and, finding him in worse shape that expected, escorted him to the infirmary. She looked down at the girl with building distaste and scorn. "You realize they'll double check with the infirmary."

"Not right away they won't," Kim shook her head. "With shift change coming up in less than forty, he'll wait until then. Now ensure the mic is off and ease back from the console." Once the woman had complied, the redhead carefully eased down the hammer of the weapon in her hand before tossing it aside.

"Now what?" the CO gingerly tested the cut on her forehead to see if it was still bleeding.

After securing her too, Kim examined the master console. She pulled a compact multi-tool from her ankle pouch, "Now, we wait."

* * *

The sky over Lemon County Super-Maximum Security Correctional Facility was pregnant with the promise of a clear dawn. The few clouds high up were a brilliant white against the lightening sky, the distant mountains edged with the gold of coming sunshine. The next shift of Correctional Officers had been arriving in dribs and drabs, waving to those on the parapets as they made their way inside and to their changing rooms.

One shift was looking forward to a full day, while the other the end of a long night which, for most of them, had been uneventful. With the next shift overlapping the previous by twenty minutes, both groups were overly confident that at a time when guard capacity stood doubled none would dare try anything.

Thus it was that even the sharpest of ears failed to pay attention to the approach of overlapping _ffwupp ffwupp ffwupps_ until it was practically on top of them.

As was his habit, Chief "Crackshot" Hatchet was early for his shift, a long-standing practice that actually had helped him get his position as shift supervisor in a relatively short time. He was already in one of the towers, even though the overlap would not begin for another ten minutes, when someone exclaimed, "What the hell is that?"

Turning to the west, where the sky was still a few shades darker, the burly man grabbed a pair of binoculars hanging on a peg. He scanned the sky in the direction of the sound his ex-military ears identified as several helicopters. What he saw, well, he had no idea exactly what he was seeing, but the huge silhouette moving against the ever lightening sky galvanized him to action.

"Sound the General Alarm! Prepare to repulse a breach attempt‼" he yelled into his radio mic while driving a beefy fist into the alarm button with the same force he would use against a drunken attacker's gut.

It was several seconds before the huge black man stared at the big red button as he realized nothing happened… .

Down in the control room, Kim had spent the past fifteen minutes acquainting herself with the workings of the main console and doing a little re-wiring. She smiled with satisfaction when the red light for the Panic Alarm lit up. However instead of activating sirens and perimeter lights and tripping key open access points to close like it was supposed to, it instead opened all the doors and gates in the prisoner areas with a loud and prolonged buzz. It also locked areas that were meant to remain open and accessible.

Dulled and lulled into a sense of security from a quiet and uneventful night, with change of shift less than ten minutes away, the Correctional Officers on the blocks were caught off guard. The prisoners, especially the superior supervillains and sharper henchmen, were not. Despite years of imprisonment, which for many had been nearly revolving door in nature, they remained ready to take advantage of any opening at any moment. Including sleeping in shifts. A select number were simply light sleepers.

Add to that an awareness that Kim Possible was still on the loose having promised to return and break out whomever she could. Nearly all understood that probably meant she would only be able to spring individuals able to be in the right place at the right time and most likely on a first come first serve basis. Ironically, the ones who put the most stock in her promises were those she had gone up against first hand. Those that only knew her by reputation were less confident.

So it was that a good portion of the population were out of their beds even before the buzzer finished sounding. Or the surprised guards fully aware of what was happening. Literally _the first_ to explode from _any_ of the cells – men's or women's wings – was a slight-built, carrot-topped, green-eyed slice of Canadian crazy.

"_Yeeaaaaaahaa haa haa haa haa‼"_

Such was the speed with which she tore out, Isabelle Hoyland was across the twelve foot width of the corridor before her cell's barred gate finished rolling open. Feet first, low and half-sliding, she took in the positions of the COs as pinwheeling bare feet squeaked across the floor's slick finish to change direction before her toes finally found purchase with the opposite cell's bars. One would never believe she had been soundly asleep less than five heartbeats prior. Brandishing an ad hoc _nunchaku-_like weapon comprised of her tennis shoes tethered by a length of partially unraveled sock_,_ she careened bodily into the closest group of three officers with wild-eyed abandon_. _Bowling them over like tenpins, Izzy's flailing weapon stunned or knocked the women cold even though she gave herself nearly as many blows to face and head, the major difference being: Izzy was both prepared for them and crazy enough to shrug them off.

Inertia driving her past them, she landed cat-like in a low three-point skidding crouch, the 'nun-shoe-ku' whipping at her side. Even before coming to a full stop she let it fly at the solo guard who had been in the opposite direction, turning to make a run for the block's exit gate now standing wide open. By the time the thing hit its target, catching the CO's legs like a bolo and bringing her down, Izzy was stripping the first three of everything remotely useful. Keys, ID swipe cards, nightsticks, belts and ties, a couple of telescoping batons, and pepper-spray. She pulled off their shoes and socks, and even broke the temples off the glasses of one wearing them.

"God _damn _Izz!" Heather's acerbic tone called over the long buzzer from the other end of the row where she was among the first of the others to emerge from their individual cells. The lower ratio of female to male criminals allowed them each their own space. "How'd you know?"

"Know what, Cap?" the wild girl asked, perched atop the pile of guards. She slid an _extendo_ baton to the brunette with a kick. Then, like a dog, she scratched behind her ear with a foot, growling at any not of her team trying to make a move on her collection of booty. Having learned to avoid the teen when like this, the other female prisoners began to spread out.

"That a break would go down at this time," the field captain scooped up the weapon. She watched a moment as the gentle Lindsey apologized to the lone guard before knocking her out. "I mean, how long were you awake?"

"Oh." Giggling half to herself in amusement the girl tossed items to the other Jeers, "I wasn't."

"What? What'd'you mean _you wasn't?"_

" _л_ _Out like a li-hight…, sleepin' like a bay-bee…, __л_ " she said sing-song, passing out _nun-shoe-kus_ she fashioned from the heavier footwear and ties to some of the other women, knowing none of her partners were proficient enough to wield them effectively. "Until the lock clicked."

"That's it?" Heather was momentarily stunned. She knew the redhead was continually wired and high-strung, but never before fully realized just how much so.

"Mm hmm," nodded heavyset Leshawna as she finally emerged into the hall, "Crazy White Girl sleeps like a stepped on land mine. Wakes up if two mosquitoes bump into each other."

"Hey Psycho, gimme a couple of dem belts," growled Eva. After snagging them from the air, she proceeded to wrap her knuckles with the sturdy leather.

Courtney held up a hand, "I'm surprised with you Captain…, nightstick me Izz…, as the field leader you should know your resources better." She caught the baton, and while the sour faced brunette sputtered, raised her voice, "Alright listen everyone! Word from the pipeline is head for the courtyard but stay inside until the signal. By remaining calm, keeping our heads, and following instructions, we're all supposed to get out."

The 'pipeline', which nearly every prison had in one form or another, was a wordless method of passing along coded information. So named for the early use of Morse Code on actual plumbing, since the advent of small and inexpensive laser pointers most modern pipelines consisted of a network of passed along and repeated blinking red dots. With the advantage of being silent, a single pointer could travel quite the distance and, with strategically placed reflective surfaces, its beam could make an amazing number of twists and turns into otherwise hard to reach destinations.

An excited buzz went up among the prisoners of Women's Wing First Level Cell Block H.

"_You knew?"_ the second in command accused, scorn dripping from her tone, "And you didn't tell us? Tell _Me? _What kind of commander are y… ."

Normally a pleasant person when unchallenged, the team leader spun on her First Captain, fire flashing in her eyes. Recognizing she once again pushed too far, Heather squelched a yelp as she flicked her wrist, opening the telescoping _extendo_ even while trying to bring it up between them. Only Courtney was faster. Holding her baton by the long end, she caught that wrist with the corner of the handle and short end. Shoving hard, she drove it back to pin hand with weapon against the bars, the long length of hardwood backed by a forearm firmly against her throat.

Nose to nose, olivine skin contrasting against lighter, the two brunettes locked equally cold and hard black eyes. "Don't. Ever. Take that tone with _me,_ Hunter," she hissed, narrowed eyes burning into widened ones. _"I_ put the Jeerleaders together. _I_ gave us purpose and structure. _I_ pick, and choose, and plan, _all_ the en-_gig_-ments.

"And you _best_ remember, _you_ would be in here _alone,_ if _I_ did not have a 'leave no one behind' policy. Is. That. Understood. _Captain?"_

"…y's m'm…," the girl rasped with a single nod, which the hold made painful to do.

The darker skinned woman continued. _"Not_ that I need explain myself to _you,_ but this only came down the pipeline twelve minutes ago. There was no time to spread the information. But unlike you, _I_ knew the lieutenant would have things well in hand before most of us could even get out of bed." With a final shove, the swarthy young woman pushed upright. "Now Captain, divvy the squads to recon how fare the other four levels."

"Aye," a hand to her bruised neck, the other brunette nodded, all business again. She scanned the assembling members of the team, all looking at her for the breakdown of orders. Irritatingly enough, there was one pair that hardly ever worked well split apart, "Majorette Barlow, if you'd take Katie and Sadie with you to check out the fifth level, we'll have the squads between us… ."

"I'll take the lovebirds, sure. But I'm staying on the first," the head Jeerleader crossed arms. "I'll head for the yard doors and maintain order there. You take the top."

Swallowing down a grimace, Heather fell in line with the display of dominance smoothly. She tried to restrict her slap-downs to once a week, and preferably in private. _But one day Courtney… one day I'll be the faster one,_ "Gwen, Beth, second floor. Bridgette, Leshawna, fourth. Linds, you're with me, which leaves Crazy and Grumpy," indicating Izzy and Eva, arguably the wildest and most ferocious of the group respectively, "the third, equidistant between us all.

"Lieu, be ready to back any of us who might need it." Izzy nodded eagerly, her nearly constant feral gleam growing brighter. If told the carrot-top had been raised by timber wolves, Heather would hardly blink an eye. "Alpha Squad leaders take the north stairs. Betas, south."

Courtney added, "Okay ladies, according to the pipeline, we have at best ten to fifteen minutes before the actual breakout commences, so _this_ is primarily a recon. Secure our backside, mop up any stray guards, and only help the others if _assured_ absolute success. Don't put yourselves at risk. In case any haven't heard, spread word for all to head for the courtyard, but none are to exit until the Escape Alarm sounds. Once that happens, move swiftly and orderly.

"I don't have any further details on this plan, but I've been assured it'll be self-explanatory. Make sure it's understood that _any_ who pushes, shoves, or's otherwise rude and disorderly will be knocked out and left behind." She narrowed her eyes, moving from face to face, "Clear on this?"

"Ma'am yes Ma'am!" they responded with the paramilitary sharpness she and Heather drilled into them. All except Izzy of course, who waved a fist above her head with an enthused "Whoo hoo‼" The wildcat so much more than made up for a seeming lack of discipline with her other talents that Courtney was willing to tolerate her idiosyncrasies. She nodded to her Second.

"Jeers, move out!" the other brunette clapped her hands. The others followed suit with a unison "Go Team!" and broke into two groups. Heather and Izzy took their partners north, Gwen and Bridgette south, while the Head Jeerleader moved to take charge and organize the situation on the block. She wondered how things were progressing on the guy's side… .

Not nearly as fast as the Canadian redhead had been but only lagging her response time by maybe ten seconds, Fukushima and the Sportan Harold Kumar both leapt out of the cell they shared. Pausing in fighting stances for a moment, they did the typical Hollywood schtick of sharing a knowing glance, a nod, then after thumbing their noses broke left and right.

Though caught equally by surprise as the women's wing had been, the male COs were farther spread out. There was little way the disgruntled and disgraced ninja and the _nidan_ blackbelt fighter could take them all on before an alarm could be raised.

Fortunately they did not need to.

Even as the two youths assaulted and overpowered the guard closest to each, the rest of the opening cells disgorged angry and excited prisoners. Among the leading edge of that wave were members of the Sportans. Though not in any way officially associated with the Jeerleaders, as the two groups were both Canadian, about the same age, and carried the related sports themes of _Jocks_ and _Cheerleaders,_ the media often touted them as counterparts.

Party-loving Geoff, tennis shoes on his hands like protective mitts, duked it out with one officer with glee, while sumo-sized Owen had two by the necks under his arms as he kept bouncing a third like a handball against a wall with his voluminous belly, and amazingly spry for his size DJ utilized his dance skills to avoid being struck by the batons of a pair of guards until subtly maneuvering them to knock each other out.

The rest of the Correctionals were just as quickly overwhelmed. While they were being kicked and stripped of useful items Duncan Nelson-Jones, captain of the jocks, stood on the back of his vanquished farm boy guard, raised a fist to the ceiling and called out, _"Sportans!"_

Spread about the length of the block, ten other youths turned to the one with the buzz-cut-and-green-Mohawk. Actually considering how long they had been incarcerated, his hair was not as kept as it should have been; the buzz not so cut, the 'Mo' not so 'hawked', and the green nearly grown out, but they knew their leader regardless. As one the scattered jocks raised their own arms in response, "Huh-Ruuuh!"

"Our hour is nigh!"

"Huh-Ruuuh!"

"For _tonight _boys. We. Shall. Dine. In…

"_DENNYS‼"_

"_Huh-Ruuuh! Huh-Ruuuh! Huh-Ruuuh‼"_ The cheer was picked up by all of the prisoners, not just those sports-themed.

"Indeed. How ambitious," Señor Senior Sr's cultured voice, though not raised, nonetheless cut across the crowd.¹

All quieted down as the man acknowledged as the architect of the pending escape moved slowly and with great dignity into their midst, his huge pansy of a son at his back. He looked up at the biker-punk, "Captain, you are doing a most marvelous job. Please to continue doing so by sending someone to check on the other floors. I've been assured that we are to take part in a most grand statement."

"Yeah?" someone shouted from the milling crowd of villains, supervillains, and henchmen. "'nd jes' what'd that be?"

The elderly man tapped the floor with his cane, "By the time morning's sunlight strikes the courtyard grounds, this facility shall be devoid of every single incarcerated soul."

"Ha ha _HAH_ ha ha!" another distinctive voice rang out in merriment.² "Zhat iz very amüsink _mein Freund!_ Vhy knot teal us _an udder vone!_" The sea of inmates parted to reveal a diminutive but wide-built man.

The Spaniard turned to face him and leaned on his cane. "Ah, Professor Dementor. You have doubts?" Then to the Sportan leader with a nod towards the open block gates, "Time is of the essence, Mr Nelson-Jones. So if you would be so kind…?"

The young man with the green Mohawk nodded and with rapid gestures called his team to order while the Austrian laughed heartily again. "Doubts? Vhy zhould I haf _doubts_ vhen zhere are twelve hunnert und neinty-nein einmates? You are beink avare zhat, _like Stalag Thurteen,_ zhere has knot bein even _vone eescape_ früm thees _Stammlager _en awl of Leimün's zeventeen yeer heestory,_ ja?" _

"Yes yes," Señor Senior nodded. "I am indeed well aware of this institution's reputation. However I would be remiss to not point out the inaccuracy of your statement. For one _has_ indeed escaped from this very facility a little over fifty hours ago."

That evoked a murmur from the gathered inmates as they turned to take Dementor's response. "Ja, ja… Owr mutual teenagered knemesis… ."

Junior bristled visibly, "You would do well not to disparage father's plans… ."

However the senior Senior held his cane up across the younger's chest without taking his eyes off the other supervillain. "That is quite alright my son," he said affably. "People are entitled to their opinions. Let me say however that _this_ is not in any form a plan of mine," an easy half-smile was directed at the shorter man. "I am not privy to its workings or master details. Whatever is about to go down, within the next ten minutes or so, is being orchestrated by none other than Lemon's very same only ever successful escapee: Kim Possible."

A larger murmur rippled among the congregated men. That a significant number of them were at this particular facility – that they were in jail _at all_ – because of the former hero was of course not lost on them. Many were suddenly distrustful.

A select few were suddenly encouraged.

Rubbing his chinstrap bearded jaw the short man mused aloud. _"Fräulein _Possible_, _eh? Thees certeinly puts matters en how you zay, deiferent lightening, _ja?"_

"Does it not though?" Senior agreed lightly.

A man next to Dementor said, "Boss, how do we know this ain't a trap?"

"Ezn't."

"What?"

"Et iz… _'ezn't'!_ 'How due ve know thees e_zn't_ a trahp'!" Dementor railed. "Vhy must et fawl to me to correct your Einglish? Et'z not even _my naytive language‼_ Und et vould be rediculous to zet a trahp foor us vhen ve are already en zee jail, nien?? Now beink zee quiet vhilst I try to due _zee thinkink‼_

"Ef et ez endeed _Fräulein_ Possible behind thees, zhe ez perhaps zee unly vone I'd conseeder capable uf zuch a bald undertakink…," he deliberated.

"Junior, show the man the message," the Spanish gentleman gestured with his cane. The younger Senior stepped forward and reluctantly handed over a disposable cellphone. On the screen read:

3s, yafiygi. rsn hed  
4 yrd, noxit, n w8 4  
lrm, oof pdq! evre1  
2 go. dnr. btobl7

Dementor frown. "Und jes' _vhat at_ em I lookink?"

"Go ahead, hand it to the youth of your choice," the Señor assured. "The younger the better."

Looking about, the Austrian super-scientist chose Noah of the Sportans, tossing him the device.

Not quite fitting in with the 'gladiator jock' image of his compatriots, the scrawny young man was the 'Mathlete' and self-proclaimed genius of the group. Taking a quick glance he sighed and translated in a tone that implied a baby could read it:

"Three-S – that would be Señor Senior Sr – you asked for it you got it. Real soon now head for (the) yard, (but) don't exit, and wait for alarm, (then get) out of (the) facility pretty damn quick! Everyone to go. Do not respond. Be there or be square." He offered the unit back to the eagerly expectant Junior.

The stocky supervillain made his decision, slamming a fist into a palm. "Count me en then! _Come buoys!_ Et ez tymink ve say _Auf Wiedersehen_ to owr hosts' _knot zo gracious_ hostink! _To zee yards‼"_

With a cheer the mass of men surged forward.

* * *

"Green Bee to Helix-One"

"_Green Bee, Helix-One,"_ came back the prompt response.

"What's your status One?"

Thirteen's voice was collected, _"On final approach Bee. We're currently above the tower minis' elevations but that'll change during descent. Plus starting to take on some hand-held flak. Joining the party soon?" _

"Less than a minute ETA, so right on time," Shego assured, having already throttled the Go Jet down to subsonic and engaging her targeting scope. The binocular device deployed to just in front of her face and lit with a Low-light line-graphical representation of landscaping. "Don't worry about the minis, I have you covered."

"_Roger that Bee. One out."_

Arming missiles and feeling the wing magazines come to life, Shego watched as the stick-schematic of the penitentiary drew larger. With practiced use of the thumb-balls mounted on the dual joysticks she set and locked proximity targeting on the four towers, first the farthest pair, then the closer. With an evil smirk she released one each. Four contrails leapt ahead. "Hope they're not 'No Smoking' zones, but if so… _too bad!"_

As the looming silhouette in the sky started to resolve itself for what it was, Crackshot Hatchet knew they were in trouble when the General Alarm failed to sound and he got nothing but static on the radio. He scrambled tower to tower along the wall-top catwalks, barking orders through a bullhorn, and sending more than one runner to hurry the next shift personnel along. The miniguns did not have the range of motion to yet be brought to bear, but he directed guards armed with live-round weapons to open fire. In reaching the southwest tower he stopped cold, staring at the two bound and gagged officers as the shadow paused overhead, starting a downward descent. _"Summabeech‼"_

Then he heard it. No veteran who had ever seen action could ever miss it.

The distinctive sound of multiple inbounds. Lifting bullhorn, his already impressive voice amplified almost into unintelligibility:

"_INCOMING‼ ABANDON THE TOWERS‼‼ HIT THE DIRT‼"_

Whether they heard him, recognized the sounds on their own, or saw the them, Correctional Officers reacted quickly. They dove out of the towers, a few leaping clear both out and inside the walls, and all the rest flinging themselves flat on the catwalks. Crackshot managed to pull the two unconscious men out of Tower Three just moments before the missiles – timed to reach the four corners nearly simultaneously – destructed twenty feet shy of actual impact.

However the released payloads engulfed and clung to their targets in the form of dense clouds of tear gas.

Swearing like a sailor, the black head guard watched one of the most amazing sights he had ever seen in his life… .

Almost to the ground, Thirteen took a hand off the control yoke for a second, reached for the disposable cellphone affixed to the console, and hit 'Send'… .

Down in the facility's control room all the officers, firmly tied up in a far corner, turned to the console left open by Kim Possible when the disposable cell she had wired into it rang. With it the General Alarm finally sounded, which would include all the external lights.

"What's that ringtone?" the guard that had been unconscious asked, frowning at the familiar tune.

"It's the theme to _Catch Me if You Can,"_ the woman answered with a grimace… .

Kim was already on the move, and by the time All Hell broke loose, she was just swiping one of the ID cards she had reprogrammed as a Master Key to open one of the not-supposed-to-be-locked doors. She still had to make it to the exercise yard herself, and while there were a few long about paths she had memorized from downloaded floorplans, the quickest was also the one way most people in her circumstances would go out of their way to avoid. Yanking the heavy metal door open she stepped though… .

Hearing the alarm go off, the prisoners burst forth from the doors of the Mens and Womens wings set on opposite sides of the large exercise yard set in the middle of the penitentiary as defined by the three main buildings. However the leading edge of both groups ground to a halt, holding back their respective tides. Multiple mouths opened in awe at the sight ahead of them… .

_The_ largest known passenger aircraft…

_Suspended_ by stout cabling from _six_ huge military grade helicopters…

Settling down onto its landing gear, barely fitting into the square space, nose-to-tail and wingtip-to-wingtip oriented to – and occasionally scrapping against – their respective corners!

It was a sight that against the backdrop of noise from the alarms, the chop of the half-dozen rotors, the groaning of suspension systems taking on the full weight of the superjumbo airliner, the sharp retorts of a few splintering picnic tables and other incidental accouterments scattered about the yard, and the rapid fire of machine guns from the gunships and the rush of the downdraft from them, was almost fantastically surreal…

Against Acceptance…

Beyond Belief…

Counter Comprehensive… .

Initially having to push back against a surging tide of eager escapees whose eagerness abated as word of the unprecedented occurrence was passed back among them, Courtney Claire Barlow uttered to herself, "Oh my god… Kim's as crazy as Izzy, if that's at all possible… ." At that moment the pun of the statement was lost on her.

On the other side, the stalled crowd gave way as Señor Senior Jr, gently carrying his less mobile father cradled like a baby in his arms, shouldered their way to the front. The younger Spaniard was dumbfounded while the elder smiled in satisfaction. He nodded to no one in particular, "Truly magnificent. Well played Kim Possible, well played. Take note Junior, _this_ is how Evil Genius is executed."

The small black jet with green-fire markings, having circled back, released four more missiles. The Correctional Officers on the walls fell flat again. Also timed to arrive at their destinations at the same time, unlike the first volley these actually impacted, and just that simple the heaviest weapons in the prison's artillery were neutralized.

Once the airliner was settled, three of the copters lowered as close to the ground as they could without hitting cables, the plane, or each other. The other three kept laying suppressive fire along the walls just under the catwalks, forcing the COs to remain down with heads covered. All staggered their altitudes enough to lesson the chance of fouling each other's rotors, but even so it was an impressive display of precision flying.

Ten doors on the jet – five a side – and the rear ramps of the lower three copters opened. From each, plainclothes henchmen fired harpoons into the ground. On their ends were a system of pulleys with looped lines leading back to motorized winches fixed to the deckhead above the doors. With wired remotes, they activated the winches to first draw up slack then to start the rope moving. In swift order looped straps were affixed, turning each into basic loop-around lifts. From one of the helicopters a basket was lowered. The strawberry-blonde in it hopped out when it touched down and ran over to the men's side.

"Señor Seniors?" Thirteen asked of the man in his son's arms, raising her voice above the racket. The older man simply nodded, not attempting to try compete with everything. She pointed to the basket, "We were instructed to provide you with special accommodations! If you would please?"

The man gestured to the hulking younger and they headed where she directed. To the rest she yelled, "Move rapidly and in single files and we can be fully loaded in fifteen minutes! Everyone heads for the plane unless I say otherwise! Once in, move to the front and fill the seats first come first serve! It's a double decker that will hold everyone. Go, go, go, go‼"

With that, the escapees converged on the lines, grabbing hold of the straps to be hoisted aboard. As soon as the women saw the activity they too surged out. While Junior secured the straps on his father, Thirteen ran to a spot directly under the superjumbo where she was constantly on the move, selecting certain individuals out of the crowds as she saw them.

Dementor, Sheldon Director, the various Jeerleaders, and other selected super- and high profile villains were culled from the crowd. Directed to the lifts for the hovering aircrafts… .

Pulling the door closed behind her and hearing it lock, Kim Possible exploded into action. She needed to move swiftly and decisively, for while taking the fastest and most direct route to the courtyard, it also happened to lead through the men's locker room and recreational areas.

In a room of some twenty Correctional Officers, fully half of the uniformed men had already turned in her direction upon hearing the _beep_ of the lock being swiped and door opening, with more following suit. _So much for the element of _that_ surprise,_ the teen grinned darkly, _so lets see what _other_ elements I can surprise them with. _

Sticking the borrowed Master Keycard between clenched teeth, it was bare heartbeats later the redhead plunged directly for the midst of them. _After all, henchmen, guards, Global Justice; one large group of guys is just like any other large group of guys… ._ Moving between two officers rushing to bring shotguns to bear on her, she grabbed the pumps with either hand and shoved. She had no idea if they were loaded with riot suppression or live rounds, and frankly did not care. At that range even beanbags would put a severe hurting on her. Severely bruise, bust ribs, stun or even knock her unconscious.

Most definitely cause her to miss her ride.

As the chambered shells ejected the intrepid teen leapt into a spin. The rifles were yanked from their grips, becoming bludgeons which she reacquainted with the owners' temples while legs rose to kick a third weapon upward, where it discharge into the light fixtures overhead. Even before glass, sparks, and bits of plaster could rain back down, she had slammed a heel into a fourth's hand. Bones shattered and weapon slipped from senseless fingers. Regaining her feet, arms crossed momentarily as extended forefingers flipped on the safeties of opposite weapons before she pressed deeper using them as Eskrima sticks. Kim made good time, rapidly cutting a swath up the middle of the room, the men falling back against their buddies with cracked temples, broken noses, a few bruised and crushed larynges, and other assorted injured body parts. Unlike most times when going up against outnumbering odds, the former hero's goal was not to defeat or incapacitate these men but to cross the room as quickly as possible.

Finally reaching the far door, also sealed closed, the intrepid teen nimbly spun, swiping the keycard still in her teeth through the lock's reader slot. It flashed green. Throwing the pair of impromptu weapons at the ankles of the lead officers rushing her, Kim yanked open the door as they stumbled to the hard floor. She pulled it closed behind her. There would be a few more, but according to the Correctional Personnel roster she had called up while waiting in the control room, she just waded through the largest number of men, and had no intention of encountering any of the women… .

Chief Hatchet was livid with barely contained rage, unable to do a thing but watch as the Go Jet circled the prison, overseeing all that went on below. Three helicopters maintained bursts of high-speed gunfire whenever a CO so much as moved as three continued to load the more infamous escapees being detoured from embarking the huge plane like the rest.

Among the surging tide of orange jumpsuits Thirteen stepped along the side of a black man with a fading blond crew cut. "Simon Phoenix?" she asked.

"So what if I am? Who wants to know?" he replied flippantly at her. Defiance shone from his mismatch-colored eyes; one brown, the other blue.

"We need a pilot and I was assured that you're familiar with something this big." Thirteen had been instructed to play up to his vanity.

"Fuuuck," he sneered. "You came all this way and you don't have anybody to drive this thing?"

"There are several layers to this breakout. Diversions have to be performed if we're not to be followed or sieged upon landing somewhere," the henchwoman explained. "Now we actually have quite a few prospects from which to chose but I was told you were the best choice. Can you fly this or not?"

"Yeah, I've flown a couple C-5s for Deserts Shield and Storm. This baby should handle just like it." the criminal nodded.

"Excellent. The transponder has been disabled, and you'll find maps, a fightplan, and a timetable in the cockpit. Stick to it like gospel."

"Shiiit," he drawled. "What for?"

"There is a flight departing from Go City International in…," she checked her watch, "Seventeen minutes. A non-stop to Sydney. It's a Skybus 380 so it has a very similar planform in case of satellite imaging. 380s have a service ceiling of forty-three thousand. You're to maintain an altitude of forty-seven directly above and pacing it." She indicated the undercarriage above their heads, "We've coated the bottom with a radar diffracting substrate. You'll not appear on the 380's screens but they will yours."

The two-colored eyes sparkled. "I take it all back, y'all got you shit together, thought of everything. Smart," he nodded.

"You'll be provided with last minute instructions that we don't wish to risk being intercepted beforehand," she handed him another of the disposable phones. "Good luck," Thirteen said as he ran for the nearest loop lift. Watching as he pushed past a man monologuing something about his monarch brethren from which he took his name, she waited until he was hoisted aboard. "Smuck."

In another couple minutes the last were aboard. The woman ran along with a machete, methodically cutting the lines. The auxiliary doors were all closed and dogged tight until only the lower main hatch remained. Swiftly her team rappelled down and spread out headed for the copters while one of the former prisoners swung the hatch closed. It pulled flush as it was sealed from inside. Thirteen made for her ride and, once lifted aboard, cut the line as the ramp shut. She made past the seated special invitees for the cockpit. She slid into her seat, nodding to her copilot that she was taking over.

The strawberry-blonde put on the headset as she flipped switches. "Helix-One to Flight. Alright boys and girls, y'all had thirty minutes worth of simulation, and all this time to pray… time to make the mommies proud," she gripped the flight controls, gaining altitude until she felt the cabling take up slack. "Full power and steady ascent in five… four… three… two… _One!"_ With that and as one, the six Mi-27s revved their power plants… .

Meanwhile, Shego, having seen the airliner being sealed, broke orbit in order to swing about for a flyby… .

Kim burst through the doors onto the yard just in time to watch the entire boondoggle of helicopters, superjumbo, and straining cables groan in protest, then slowly lift clear of the ground. The massive downdraft sent her hair whipping about her shoulders and kicked up plenty of loose dust, trash and debris. After a dozen feet the landing gear retracted. Even she was amazed that the audacious plan had come together as smoothly as it had.

Excitement and a sense of accomplishment filled the new supervillain. _Put that in your pipe and smoke it Dr Director!_ Then, shielding her eyes she scanned the sky for…, _There! There's my baby!_

The little black jet grew from a point in hardly any time. It came in low and fast. Four more missiles were released. Along with something else. Coming in under the helicopters as they and their load cleared the facility, the projectiles were this time aimed for the walls. Correctional Officers scrambled as the proximity detonated warheads belched forth more smoke and tear gas. The lone package fell on a parabolic arc that took the item under the getaway vehicles, parachutes deploying to bring the thing down gently.

On it as soon as it settled, even before the silken canopies came to rest, Kim hit a quick release on the case and yanked off the top… .

"Press for the ceiling boys!" Thirteen yelled into the mike as she fought the controls. Actually, what she was fighting was herself. Fact was, one could push and pull flight controls all they wanted, the systems barely pushed back beyond token computerized 'feedback'. She could pull the flight stick all the way back. However, that did not mean that it would result in a stable flight. Yes, pull back, but equally yes, tilt the bird until the rotor-disk lost lifting equilibrium and the entire thing would side-slip from the air. While bad, if far enough above the ground and with a light enough load, a skilled operator could pull it back together.

However, close to the ground. Under a heavy load. With five other birds close by.

Really Bad.

So what the uninitiated might describe as fighting the controls, what was really being fought was to maintain a steady enough pressure that all the controls remained balanced, to not get too excited and be too rough when finesse was what was really needed. In an impressive display of precision flying, the flight of Russian made rotorcraft rose straight up from Lemon Penitentiary and steadily gained altitude.

"Janus, take the stick and keep it steady," Thirteen ordered. Once he had, she pulled the cellphone free from the instrument panel and dialed. "Simon Phoenix? Alright, here are the final instructions. Power up the engines, but leave them idle at pre-taxi levels. Yes, that's right. No, we shall not be setting you down onto any sort of runway. No, the highway is out. There's no need for that sort of language Mr Phoenix, I'm just following my own orders. When? Trust me, you'll know when to full-throttle. Oh, and you best leave all electronics turned off until later. Again, you'll know when. Good luck."

Closing the line, she tossed the device out the window. "You're gonna need it… ."

Crouching by the compact device she had just activated, Kim watched as the numbers on a laser range finder she had trained on the escape vehicles continued to climb. _Sixteen thousand… Sixteen-five… ._ She could hear the guards calling back and forth to each other, and a part of her mind registered that they were using fire-escape ladders to descend from a couple of the towers not too far damaged. She could hear that brusque supervisor barking at everyone, but her concentration remained on the range finder and the task at hand.

_Seventeen thousand feet!_ The redhead looked up, scanning for Shego's Go Jet and saw it. It appeared to be in trouble, its wings wobbling. Kim grinned evilly and pressed a big green button on the larger device. A screen lit up with a ten-second countdown. Standing, she looked at the guards rushing on her. "Better run!" She did just that.

Crackshot skidded to a halt as he saw glowing red numbers counting down, _five … four… three…,_ and bellowed for a retreat for cover. Kim dove behind a picnic table that had been flipped on its side as the thing reached Zero and detonated.

The explosion itself was rather small considering the size of the thing, though still powerful enough in the confined courtyard to fling the COs from their feet, stunning them. However the effect of it was far more reaching. While all on the ground felt a sort of static shock like just prior to a near miss lightening strike, causing all fine hairs to stand on end, the intended target was a couple miles above all their heads.

For what the explosion truly released was a directed Electro-Magnetic Pulse. Without warning, all of the satellites presently above the American Southwestern Region – including Global Justice's _SkySat One_ – simply… turned off.

Kim clambered to her feet, dusted herself off, and made for the remains of the EMP generator where it stood near the center of the yard. Once she reached it, she saw that also gaining their feet were about a dozen prison guards. _Boy, they don't look too happy._ Weapons raised to cover her as they moved to surround her and position themselves to avoid being in each other's line of fire. _Nope, not happy a'all… ._

"Kim Possible‼" Crackshot Hatchet's voice rang out, his anger evident. "Hands up! You are under arrest for various _Offenses Relating to Custody_, including but not limited to: _Escape from a Detention Facility, Hindering Prosecution, Aiding and Abetting,_ and the _Use of Violence Against Prison Personnel and or Property._ I would count it a personal favor if you would add _Resisting Arrest _to these List of Charges‼" The big man sneered over the sights of his weapon, "Welcome back to Lemon Miss Possible. Seems we now have plenty of room which, thanks to you, is nothing but solitary confinement."

Looking over his shoulder, Kim raised her arms above her head before smiling with an equal sneer, "I'm sorry Chief, but I shall have to not so respectfully decline." The redhead rapidly spun about and crouched, bringing her arms down to wrap and brace her head. A green crosshatched circle flared to life on her upper back with the brightness of a laser. It rotated until the cross reoriented from a + to a × …

"Wha…?" Crackshot turned just in time to see the same small black and green aircraft that had been circling now on a hard powerless dive straight at them. On its underside near the tail, a cannon-like mount trained their way fired. The COs watched in amazement as a harpoon-like projectile, with cabling unspooling in its wake, split open into a four-pronged claw.

It flew past the men to its intended target, hitting the black catsuited teen solidly. The claw snapped shut and, like a toy in that arcade game, Kim Possible was whisked up, up, and away from their midst as the jet kicked in its engines to climb rapidly.

All the frustrated Chief Hatchet and the Correctional Officers had to mark her passage – aside from an emptied prison – were the girl's last echoing words:

"_Ahh BOO YAH Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha‼‼"_

* * *

**Footnotes****:  
**¹ I was asked why I don't type out the Seniors' accents like I do others and like with the _Chica Boom_ Latina Betoney Baum. Answer: The Seniors, coming from old money, are far too cultured to have the same sort of "street" speech patterns that someone like Betty Boom does, and therefore can be _heard_ while being far too subtle to type out.

While I'm on this subject, some mentioned my not giving Electronique's speech the same sort of treatment. If you listen closely you will see that her accent is not as severe as Dementor's. She doesn't use 'v' in place of 'w' and etc. I also personally see her as Czech more than German/Austrian

² Prof. Dementor's voice is a little harder to convey. I'm using Italics in his dialogue both for German and also to invoke the way he places heavy rant-stresses at key points. I'm also using some words that are homonyms mainly to convey visually the way _my_ ear hears his accent. For example instead of "Why not tell us another one" I have "Vhy knot teal us an udder vone" or "awl" instead of "all", etc. If you find yourself not quite following his speech, say it out loud and your ear should catch it.  
**__**

**Notes**: Damn I love Izzy‼ LOL, can't you tell? Nearly as much as I love Kim. She'll probably show up in nearly all of my fics in one form or another. I have a fic percolating somewhere about her and a Good Kim running afoul of each other. I've got a plot laid out, just don't have a title for it yet… The real beauty of Izzy is that her crazy personality is so middle of the road she is a perfect foil against either a Good Kim or an Evil Kim without changing her one iota.

I need point out that I have gone back and edited all instances of "Mi-28" to "Mi-27". Originally I was extrapolating and extending features and capabilities of the _Russian Mil Mi-26_ helicopter, and thus I meant to make up a newer heavy-lifting bird. Initially I went with the -27, knowing it had no real world counterpart. Then on a whim I bumped it up once more, but made the mistake of not checking if a -28 existed. Imagine my surprise to discover that not only does a Mi-28 exist, but it's much smaller than the -26. My apologies for being so sloppy.

Unlucky Number 13… this took me a little longer because first, I wanted to complete the entire prison break in one stretch, and second, I went through a little melancholy around my birthday and a small bit of depression over the lack of reviews considering the number of hits the stories get. To those that do review, I apologize for the wait. It for you this one is longer than my usual target length.

Many thanks to CelestrialDoggie/**Ken-Zero** for allowing me to bounce my many muse-balls off his backboard. It really helps! Be sure to check out his work, links to his profile on my Favorite Authors list.

Another author to visit from my Favorite List is **NoDrogs**. Not only did he write fics I found stimulating, they also inspired the one whose work inspired the beginning of this one, and as an added bonus, I've had a chance to work on a few of his newer ones with him, and a couple yet to come.

I have made a forum for my fics, with areas devoted to each title. So in addition to dropping me reviews, drop in and drop some aci... lines! I mean, drop some lines...


	14. EMPulsive

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible. She is owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Got it?

The WPS universe was inspired by BlackBird's AIRW universe, with permission.

**The Worst Possible Sitch**

Chapter Fourteen –_ EMPulsive_

At oh-seven-fifteen sharp, Eastern Daylight, Dr Director stepped out of her office at Global Justice's World Headquarters in New York, absentmindedly scooping two aspirin gel-caps from among a meager pharmaceutical assortment laid out next to an oversized cup of unadulterated coffee on a tray in the hands of an alert steward who saluted and – as far as she was concerned – evaporated from her awareness. No one knew exactly how the senior-most agent gained entry to the installation – any of them, worldwide – much less her offices without anyone noticing. It certainly was not by means of any of the monitored means; elevators, driveways, or even the network of 'Spitball' pneumatic travel tubes clustered around each installation.

She was just… there. Seemingly twenty-four hours a day.

In fact, unless deploying with field troops on an operation or relocating to a regional base local to missions, all anyone would ever see her enter or exit was her office. Never the base itself. Considering the lack of sleeping amenities in there, rumors ran the gamut from her never sleeping, to whispers of top secret entrances to the bases through her office. Whenever summoned to her sanctuary, many a sharp-eyed agent would surreptitiously seek to suss out the supposed alternate access points, but so far none found anything.

As it were, the only indication any ever had of her on-base presence at a particular location was by means of a green panel above her door; lit when present, dark when not. Which was how the Steward Department knew to have the Alpha Agent's morning brew ready for her expected appearance at the expected time.

"Good morning, Madam Director," a slight built woman of Asian Indian ethnicity with long wavy dark hair and an ornately bejeweled _bindi_ prominent on forehead, stood several paces along the corridor. Wearing a skirted Base Duty version of the navy colored officer's uniform, she waited patiently, experience having taught her the wisdom of allowing the one-eyed woman time to indulge in the first few sips of her coffee. Sometimes, as this morning, washing down medication. Falling into step alongside her, the young woman kept silent until acknowledged.

Grimacing at the sharp bitterness of the cup's hot contents, Dr Director nonetheless drained a third as they strode along for several minutes. Finally feeling almost as alert and sharp as she appeared, almost to their destination, the woman broke silence. "Good morning Nyna. Dare I ask the status of the sweep for Possible?"

Although GJ's Lead Female Agent – the second-most top agent – and the current Officer of the Day for the week, carried an oversized PDA, she had no need to consult it. "Not a trace since escaping from her parent's house and rendezvousing with Shego fifteen hours ago."

Betty sighed. The involvement of Shego was both unexpected, and bad news. As if dealing with Kim Possible on the run had been bad enough, Du's analysis of what the duo were capable of from the few previous instances they worked in concert was more than daunting. _But then, he sees would-be world conquerors around every corner._ "And the usual status report?"

In a pleasantly clipped Mumbai accent, Special Agent Nyna Nyn recited the highlights of the world's most critical current events; concerns with potential international fallout given priority, followed by matters of regional import-only last, "…and finally _See-Sis_ advises of a break-in and theft at an undisclosed secret RCMP research facility in Alberta… ."

Dr Director paused. They had just entered the base's Central Operations Room, three curving rows of consoles, each station manned by an operative or scientist, all centered on four huge flatscreen monitors arrayed about the largest one center to all. The area was somewhat crowded as Change of Shift was imminent.

"Wait. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service? _That_ CSIS?? _Admitting_ to a _chink_ in the _armor_ they consider their national security?"

"Yes, Madam Director," the young OD nodded.

"What have those red-breasted Queenies lost track of this time?"

"A compact non-nuclear electromagnetic pulse generator prototype."

"An EMP?" the brunette led them deeper into Ops to clear the doorway.

"Yes, Madam."

"Did they provide any forensics which might supply a clue as to the perpetrator?"

Checking the PDA, "The report does mention several claw-like marks in several substrates, including metal."

"Shego!" Betty whipped about, her uncovered eye narrowing. "Oh, this doesn't bode well. Wait. What was that Canadian border sighting again?"

"An American-side patrol filed a UFO sighting, southbound at the British Columbia-Washington border."

Scoffing, the woman asked, "Complete with Christmas fairy lights and five-tone music, I suppose."

"Actually no. Completely dark. The report says it was heard and felt more than observed. It was described as a huge, dark, shapeless mass overhead occluding stars.

"Dark and stealthy?" Clasping the mug, warming both hands with it, Dr Director deeply inhaled the braincell-stimulating aroma like incense, "Hmmmm… BC… there was an incident there, too."

"Correct, Madam," Nyna consulted her readouts again. "A _Skybus_ airliner fabrication facility north of Vancouver went dark a hundred and forty-two minutes ago. Investigating RCMP 'E' Division Emergency Response Teams discovered they had been attacked by several helicopter gunships, and had a brand new airliner stolen. Fully fueled."

"A huge one, yes?"

"An A400, announced the largest passenger in the world, but yet officially rolled out."

Turning, Director made for her Master Station, face drawn in concentration, nearly sloshing her drink while absently gesturing. "There is something there Nyna… I can almost taste it… ."

At that moment a General Alert began chiming. Operatives scrambled, current shift personnel moving out of the way of the next as per protocol. As a GA could last an undetermined length of time, when one arose so close to change over, the shifts were performed early, leaving the fresher operatives ready in case of a prolonged watch. Betty rushed the final steps to her desk, barking, "Situation!"

One of the agents in junior officer grey announced, "Alarm at Lemon Supermax!"

"Retasking _SkySat_," another called out, the central screen changing to a satellite view, the nighttime Midwest scrolling to acquire central Colorado.

"Lemon!" the one-eyed woman slammed down her mug, growling, "I should have known. Mark my words Nyna, somehow all that has something to do with this."

"Local time: Oh-five-twenty-seven Mountain Daylight."

Standing in the Officer of the Day's position near the master station, Agent Nyn demanded, "Which alarm?"

"Uhm…, all of them, Sir!"

Another operator clarified, "Riot, lock-down, breakout, break in, multiple wall breach, multiple Open Gates, multiple smoke alarms, fire, air raid, tornado, medical emergencies, telecom blackout, and… ."

"And what?" Betty stood, arms on desktop supporting her, "Somebody kill that klaxon!"

The operative continued a bit sheepishly, "And multiple _RoadStar_™ car alarms registering in the parking lots."

"…everything but the microwave timer…," a _sotto voce_ comment floating from a corner was ignored.

"Which suggests the use of ordinance nearby if automobile sensors are being tripped by concussion waves," another station offered in the sudden silence of the chiming alert dying out.

"Scramble Strategic Response Units stat. Contact Will and Team Orchid. Unless they are within kissing distance of Possible, he's to drop whatever he's doing and get his skinny ass there ASAP!"

Repetitions of the commands echoed in confirmation as imaging on the screen rapidly centered upon the prison's coordinates, zooming in. Nightvision filtering was not even required due to the entire facility being awash with bright lights, including frantically roving spots. View stabilizing, the square shaped facility leapt into focused clarity.

"What the Hell!"

"Seems we found the Skybus… _three dee ex-strap!"_ ordered the lovely Mumbaiite. Thanks to the marvel of satellite technology, hypercomputers, and holographic viewscreens, the audacious scene filled out, leaping to life, lifting to slowly rotate with extrapolated CGI sharpness. "Mil Mi-26 or -27s. Gunships accounted for."

Observing the jailbreak in progress was nearly mesmerizing; prisoners scrambling aboard via ingenious lifts – several station's sub-monitors running facial recognitions against the prison's population roster – helicopters laying out suppressive cover fire, and the easily recognizable Go Jet overflying it all. _Shego's presence would suggest Dr Drakken's involvement but for those cohorts not wearing his colors._ Betty could only shake her head in fascination, "Astounding. Notice how the airliner just barely fits the yard, obviously airlifted in place by the helos – there's that UFO sighting… I knew it all fit together. Kim Possible is behind this, guaranteed. She's aiming to liberate them all. The sheer _chutzpah _to even _attempt_ to execute something like this is… just… have you raised Du?"

"He is inbound, twelve minutes after SRUs, of which lead dropships' ETA is just under ten," provided a station to the far left.

_Excellent response time considering how thinly spread we were in dragging for Kim. _Sitting back down, the Chief Peacekeeper crossed arms and legs in open satisfaction, all the while clicking her tongue in self-recrimination. _Should have left a couple squads picket, but who knew she'd return, much less attempt this? Kim, Kim, Kim… you have no idea how much this pains me… ._

In the holographic rendition floating in the open space between banks of stations and the monitor, the superjumbo had sealed its doors and the six Mils were steadily lifting it off the ground. Noting the clock counting down the Strategic Response Units' arrival, reaching for her almost forgotten coffee with a predatory grin, Betty mused, _Leaving early, but not by nearly enough!_ Kim burst into the courtyard. _Too late! So, she uses her grapple-gun to snag a ride. So predictable… ._

Except the scale holographic redhead did not do as the woman expected. There was no last second ride hitching, rushing instead to a device dropped by Shego's little black and green jet as the rotorcraft and their common load rose out of the hologram's field of view. A flick of her eye to side monitors confirmed them still under observation. Lemon Correctional Officers advanced on the former hero, moving in from all sides by the time she returned her gaze to the computer extrapolated view.

Something niggling at the back of her mind, the lead peacekeeper took a deep hit of the still respectfully hot beverage, watching as first Kim, and then the COs ran, clearing the courtyard, giving wide berth to the unknown device…

…_a compact non-nuclear EMP generator prototype…,_ the OD's Indian-British voice repeated in her head.

…‼ ‼ ‼…

Bolting to feet wide-eyed, dropping her cup, Dr Elizabeth Director barked out a series of orders. Unfortunately, having been in the process of swallowing, only the black – _and hot_ – contents of a coffee-filled throat issued forth from mouth and nose. If any words got formed they were drowned amid fluid spraying all over her desk and startled attending OD. Gagging, hacking, and gasping, the woman nearly passed out due to burning pain of abused and seared nasal passages just moments before holographic electromagnetic generator _pulsed._

To the surprise of everyone else in the room, the three dimensional image, along with all the monitoring stations in the Ops Center – even those not focusing on the Lemon situation but dependent still upon the feed from _SkySat One…_

…went dead.

A dripping but fully composed Agent Nyn commented dryly, "I see we found the RCMP's prototype."

* * *

"…_There's no need for that sort of language Mr Phoenix, I'm just following my own orders," _the strawberry-blonde's irritated voice shot back over the disposable cellphone. _"When? Trust me, you'll know when to full-throttle. Oh, and you best leave all electronics turned off until later. Again, you'll know when. Good luck."_ The call ended.

Tossing the unit into the lap of an inmate he had selected to be his copilot, Simon cut loose a string of profanity which stated in English, shifted to Spanish, and migrated back again. The superjumbo rocked under the heavy-lifters, the Coloradan Rockies coming into view through the front windows as walls were cleared and altitude mounted. The motion was slight in the overall general scheme of things, but it was easily felt in the filled to capacity airliner. A raucous and cacophonous blend of shouts, curses, laughter, and cheers from the escapees on the lower decks floated through the open cabin door.

"_Sheeeet,"_ the dual eye-colored criminal drawled, reaching for a headset while flipping open the inter-cabin comm. "Better tell the muthafukkas to plant their asses…" _bing!_ "…Hello," he spoke, affecting a commercial tone, "this is your pilot speaking. Welcome to ConAir…

"…_NOW SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND STILL!"_ he yelled, dropping the pleasant voice, stilling the last few rowdy criminals. "Lissen, normally I wouldn't give a _culo de rata_ if you all act th'fool or not, but seein' as this breakout is still, you know, in progress, I'd rather not have to take the time to kneecap any of y'muthafukkas for potentially messing up _my_ getaway! _¿Entender?" Understand?_

Returning back to his faux pleasantness, "Now, I'm not exactly sure what's next, but you might want to fasten you seatbelts as the 'Please Fas…' …where the fuck is the button for the go'damm sig… ah there's the fucker…" _bing!_ "'…Fasten Your Seatbelt' sign is now lit th'fuck up."

Being as the lot of them were criminals, most resumed interrupted conversations, many ignoring the pilot's sage advice. Still able to hear them up in the cockpit, Phoenix looked to his copilot with a shrug. "Well, wattcher gonna do?"

The other man shrugged back at him with a goofy grin.

"_Y'gonna fasten your fuckin' seatbelt is wattcher gonna do, y'moron!" _

"Right!" he scrambled to comply, "Sure thing boss."

As he did so, the black man fired up the plane's engines. All but the dumbest convicts ceased their conversations when the whine of six Rolls-Royce Trent XWB-97's turbofans coming to life filled the double-decker cabin. After ensuing green lights on all six and checking various dials and readouts, Phoenix throttled them back to idle at pre-taxi levels before reluctantly turning off all instrumentation and avionics according to the instructions he had been given, sliding the laptop-like keyboard into its drawer-slot above the foot pedals.

Normally the one to call the shots, the crime lord was willing to extend a bit of faith for once and do as instructed considering how flawlessly the audacious escape plan was so far coming off without a hitch. Truth be told, he was mightily impressed.

Not that he would admit it aloud.

Waiting for the promised moment to full-throttle, he sat back, grooming his bleached crew cut with a crude pick fashioned from the heads of three plastic forks. "Don't know what the bitch is talking about," he griped to no one in particular, completely unaware at the very moment that very bitch was ordering her fellow pilots to shut off their avionics, "obviously we'll have t'be set down somewhere in order to properly take-_ooooohhhhshhiiit!"_

Simon Phoenix had no idea what was happening seventeen thousand feet below. Far from his mind was any concern as to what was happening in the lifting aircraft…

"Coming up on the Mark, and then a ten-count, people!" an eye glued to the altimeter, Thirteen spoke clearly across their encoded channel. "Those with passengers double check restraints. Time to earn our bonuses. Mark. Good luck. Turn off all electronic systems in five… four… three… two… _OFF!"_ Following her own instructions the henchwoman killed power to instrumentation seconds before everybody felt all their fine hairs stand on end.

However no one really had time to remark on the phenomenon, all but pilots grasping instead at crash-webbing as each of the six Russian rotorcraft went spiraling out of control.

Well, a _carefully controlled_ out-of-control.

Knowing what was coming, each of the six Russian-made helicopters had been pulling out and away against their systems of wire roping. Cabling which were secured to welded-on arrays of saddles and eye-hooks by catches _electronically powered closed._ All of which turned off with the EM pulse, releasing simultaneously, freeing copters from airplane.

As they fell away, spinning about the major axis of the main rotor, Thirteen and her fellow pilots fought deadstick to keep autogyroing level while copilots worked swiftly to reboot systems protected from the pulse by having been off. First power to the hydraulic-assisted Flight Control Systems, then the less critical instruments.

In her little black and green Go Jet, Shego was also prepared, killing her avionics immediately after curving back around into a powerless glide for the prison yard. As soon as she saw her former rival at the generator, the woman jiggled the dual sticks. From a distance appearing as if in trouble, the jet's waggling wings were in reality a signal to her partner she was set for the coming fireworks.

Beginning power-up immediately after detonation, grinning predatorily, the pale woman swooped in on the group of Correctionals crowding in on her partner. She enjoyed their startled faces as the clawed harpoon snagged Kim, lifting her up and away from their midst. With a laugh brought on by the successful maneuver, Shego boosted for the sky… .

Bringing her Helix One back under control after only a twenty-six hundred foot drop, and acknowledging the other Helices' checking in, the strawberry-blonde wondered, "Anyone got eyes on The Baby?"

"_Dropping like a brick, One… ."_

Ignoring a flurry of sudden shouts and assorted yells and screams erupting from the wide-bodied cabin behind him, Phoenix – although caught completely off guard – dropping feet from where he had them crossed while combing his hair, moving in the sudden freefall and grabbing at the joystick style flight yoke to his left with both hands amid a nearly continuous stream of _"Ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit‼"_ occasionally punctuating with frantically shouted commands, "Reboot! Reboot!

"Keep y'fukkin' hands off the stick! The joystick idjit! Keep y'r' hands off the stick!"

The problem was, while airplanes only a few years older – such as the military C-5 he was used to – have Fly-by-Wire Flight Control Systems capable of operating without powered assistance, requiring plenty of muscle to wrangle with them, newer and modern birds like the _Skybus 300 _and_ 400 Series_ are – in their entirety – electronic and computerized.

No power, no flight control. Period.

Which was one of the reasons why as soon as he stepped into the flight deck and saw not flight yokes – the sticks, commonly called steering wheels by the uninitiated – but a couple of small multifunction joysticks like one would see on a fighter or hooked to a kid's game console, Simon Phoenix cursed. Turning back and grabbing one of the other inmates who was supposedly a former navigator on the newer commercial birds, he pulled the hapless man with him. Not trained as even a copilot, the man nonetheless was familiar with the systems and pre-flights.

A wise thing it turned out, as the convict went right to work, pulling forth his keyboard and typing in the emergency boot-up command sequence. One by one the digital monitor-like screens flickered to life.

Phoenix capitalized on each system as they turned on. _"Gear up! Gear up!_

"Gear up muthafukka, _get the g'damm gear up‼ _Push that lever_ there!_

"_Ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit‼"_ there was no longer any way to tell who was saying that as both voices on the flight deck began to meld into one interestingly synchronized mantra.

The _thunk!_ of landing gear retracting into place was lost in the moment as the plane fell straight down, waffling flatly like a leaf. "Reboot the board! There! There!

"The fukkin' button there‼" The board began to come to life, but the man with mismatched colored eyes, with left hand gripping the stick and right on the throttle, was barely coherent in his commands, more often than not shooting out his right – never the left, that remained on the flight control – to flick what he wanted.

Subconsciously he felt a slight give in his left. Without bothering to check for the appropriate status indicators, he was already shoving the control stick hard against the yolk, pushing it forward.

"Push! Push hard! The fukkin'stick! NOW YOU C'N GRABBIT‼

"_SHOVE HARD_ YA G'DAMM MUTHA, _SHOVE‼_

Falling flat as it was, there was only one fast way to restarting the six powerful Rolls-Royces. Counter-intuitively it was to drop the aircraft's nose downward.

"_Ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit‼"_

Hard.

"_Ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit‼"_

Not recommended for non-military aircraft.

"_Ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit, ohhsshiiit‼"_

Yet doable.

The liner's nose dropped as they did. Air was forced into the engines, spinning the turbofans up to speed, making their jumpstarts easier. Keeping right hand on the throttle, as soon as he felt those levers give a little, indicating power had reached them, he eased them forward until the first engine to catch roared to life over the whistle of wind across the windshields.

Actually all they needed was only one of the six Trent XWBs, but the more the merrier.

The easier.

A second kicked in. "Engines three and six are up!" the copiloting convict called off as indicator lights turned green. The distinctive whine of a power dive grew. "Number Two!"

"Now pull back!" Phoenix ordered. For the first time casting his gaze out the double paned windshield, _"Ohhsshiiit! PULL‼"_

The ground, the prison, rushed at them.

"PULL!"

"One and five!"

The Flight Control System's Power Assist was in place, only now they were contending with the greater forces of gravity, inertia, and the desire of things heavier than air to want to find the ground the fastest way possible. Pilot and co- pulled back on the joysticks, the crime lord revving the throttle higher, needing the massive turbofans to gulp in air faster than the fall was ramming down their throats.

"Four! All six lit up!"

Ignoring sweat, having been pouring down his face since the initial drop, but now noticeably working into his eyes, Phoenix allowed a glimmer of a grin to grace his lips as he felt the filled-beyond-capacity, wide-bodied, double-decked, superjumbo responding, its nose pulling back up.

Opening the throttle all the way full, he crowed, "Simon says: fly_,_ Sweetie, _FLY_!"

The ground, the prison, and guards scattering once again for cover, rolled down and away, dual lines of train tracks and nearby highway once again reaching for the distant Rockies on the horizon as the aircraft leveled out, then proceeded to climb. Slowly the flight crew were finally able to take note of the myriad groans, moans, and collective sobbing rising forward from the rear cabins.

"What a crazy-assed plan! I can't believe the bitch pulled it off! But I ever get her in my sights, I'll kill her for that last part." Phoenix declared, opting to run his mouth than look at the altimeter until much later.

Somethings he decided he really did not want to know.

* * *

"Penitentiary ETA nine minutes, sir," the copilot responded. "We'll be fourth to the party."

Having been recalled from their various search grids, almost a dozen Global Justice hoverjets were inbound for Lemon Correctional. Some only minutes away. A few, minutes ahead of the others. Most were the black with scarlet underside Assault versions, a couple were the less aggressively outfitted transports done in GJ's signature color of navy blue.

It was in one of the latter which found Special Agent Will Du standing behind and between the piloting stations, his agitation palpable. _I should have recommended leaving a couple squads picket! This will look bad on my performance review._ "Can't we shave any time off our ETA?" he prodded.

"Look Agent…"

"Special Agent."

"…right, sure," the man glossed past the interruption, for 'correction' was not the term he was ready to give it. "This is not one of the red-bellies. We're built for comfort, not speed." He nodded to the rear compartment. "Considering how loaded we are, we're moving as fast as the crate'll carry."

The young Turkic operative felt a certain nerve above his eye dance. He was very much aware of the team Dr Director saddled him with. He both objected to, yet saw no way around, a duty he felt little more than baby-sitting. Ironically, the last time he felt so burdened was with the very teenager this team was tasked to bring down. While the South American girl was pleasant enough, something about her distinctly reminded him of the redheaded fugitive. _Which should hardly be surprising, Will, since you were the one to profile and select her in consideration of replacing Possible. I wish I could understand Madam's fascination with cheerleadering amateurs as potential recruits._

His facial tic throbbed in agreement.

What annoyed him even more were the Latina's male companions. _Nearly as insufferable as that clown, Stoppable,_ he grunted inwardly. _Doubly so since they instantly made friends… ._

"Everybody hang on!" Monique abruptly shouted. "Turn off th… ."

_Snap!_

Everyone's fine hairs stood as the VTOL's instrumentation went dark or dials crazy. Several alarms sounded, most notably the Flight Distress/Imminent Crash Alert.

"Flame out!" the pilots tugged on their yokes, frantically prodding their HOTAS – Hands On Throttle And Stick – systems to regain a semblance of control. A practiced pair, they spoke in a rapid-fire verbal shorthand which Du, although rated to pilot the craft as well, was unable to follow in the confusion. Especially over the black girl's urging her teammates to strap themselves in.

"Oh m'God! We're losing power!"

"We're Red!"

"One and Two both out!"

"Restart!"

"Neg!"

"Engage Verti's!"

"Neg!"

"Sir, you better strap yourself in… Cycle hard boot!"

"No time! We're going down!"

The problem with Global Justice's VTOL hoverjets was their lifting-body design was wingless, sacrificed for oversized turbofan engines capable of hovering in place as if hung from a wire, or speeds upwards of Mach Two. Which meant there was little in the way of normal tricks to pull when dead-sticking without a shred of power. Which further meant, in following protocol, there was only one thing to do if unable to recover within thirty seconds.

"Agreed. Punch it!"

Half-turning, the copilot raised his voice, "Passenger compartment! As soon as each of you strap in, grab the red handles to either side of your head, simultaneously pull down on them, and keep your hands on them until you clear the aircraft. ASAP!" Then to Will, "You as well, Agent…"

"Special Agent," Will automatically corrected as he found his own seat while from the rear, half a dozen booster rockets momentarily roared one after the other.

"…right, you just wait here whilst I go get that engraved on an invitation for ya!" the other finished.

"Passengers clear! I'm punching!" The pilot tugged his manual ejection activators hard.

"Right behind you! Punching!" and the second pilot was gone. Followed just seconds later by the swarthy İstanbulite.

Cursing in several languages while floating down with the others, Special Agent Will Du had an excellent view of two other groupings of parachutes from two other downed hoverjets, which told him, _Somehow Kim Possible caused this! I don't yet know how, but of this I am very sure… ._

* * *

Not the first time Kim ever dangled from Shego's jet, this was different in that she did not need to cling for dear life. The claw had her firmly in its grip. All she needed do was fasten a harness which the career villain had insisted be installed despite the redhead's assurance it was unnecessary.

However that had been during the planning stages.

Now in the execution phase, feeling the pressure of the jet's hard climb and acceleration, Kim was rather glad for the additional security the harnessing provided. _Note to Self: Shego is not Ron… don't ignore her very valid concerns as if she is… ._

Since the plan was to get as far away as possible before any spying eyes could be brought back to bear on the area, all of the escaping aircraft were heading away at full speed, the superjumbo heading about to take up its position above and pacing the commercial flight out of Go International. After a bit the copters would be landing in preselected hiding places, ready to wait things out a while.

What it all meant was they were not going to set or slow down anytime soon to pull her back into the tight cockpit. So, with the wind whipping past her like during her free-flight, the former hero settled back into a meditative state.

_Maybe I can reconnect some more memories… ._

* * *

**Notes**: Whew! I managed to get this chapter in just under the 1 year wire! Sorry about that. My med issues are evening out. Keep your eyes peeled to this space as I'm now working on chapter 15 for a back-to-back updating!

This chapter introduces a new OC of mine: Agent Nyna Nyn, GJ's Lead Female Operative, second of Field Agents only to Will Du. She is an East Indian Hindu, and I've based her appearance on the real life actress Tiya Sircar. Look her up. She's a beauty. I used to have hips like hers…

One of my anonymous reviewers left a couple of detailed reviews which I'd like to address a few comments there in.

First off, even though I am injecting a great deal of real world details into this and my other stories, I am still writing Kim Possible fanfics. Which means I'll also be leaving one foot firmly planted in the fantastic. So even though I give a lot of details about things like helicopters and superjumbo aircraft, please notice I like to use models which are not real. This allows me to extrapolate exaggerated capabilities as well as make shit up. Thus the Mil Mi-27s. I was unaware there was a proposal for associating that number to an advanced version of the -26, yet I still can give my -27s lifting power and capabilities greater than the real world baseline models. In other words, I can say they can do what I say they can do because they don't really exist.

The same with Skybus, a stand in for Airbus (but imagine my surprise to discover Skybus also exists) of which the A380 is currently the largest non-military airliner in the world. So I upped it to the A400, added two more engines, and expanded on the number of passengers it can hold. By the way, look up the luxury version of the A380. It's a flying hotel. I mean, damn.

Now maybe Real World, six Mi-26s might not be enough to lift an A380, but remember, I'm writing KP, and in her world it's amazing what just one to three little black helicopters can lift.

Still, I appreciate the information.

As for the comments about what punches can do to a man… Doy! What do you think happens to the multitude of henchmen she wails upon? In Kim's world they too are just doing a job, HenchCo very similar to a manpower service. You may want to see Kim put down like a rabid dog, but I am just happy my writing evoked such strong feelings in you. Shows I'm doing my job as a writer.

I hope you remain for the ride.


End file.
